


Between The Shadow And The Soul

by Fightyourdragon, Hedwig_Dordt



Series: The Love Song of James Bond [2]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Disturbing Themes, Dom/sub Play, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 100,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedwig_Dordt/pseuds/Hedwig_Dordt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year and a half has passed since the events in The Love Song of James Bond and the stress of the job has taken its toll on their relationship.  What would Q do to have James back again?  As it turns out, just about anything...</p>
<p>As of chapter 4, the amazing Hedwig_Dordt is co-authoring.<br/>Also, gorgeous cover art by thislostcastaway at http://i32.photobucket.com/albums/d19/chibi_chibit/btsts1_zps84210def.jpg</p>
<p>COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again everyone! This is very different in tone from the previous story but the idea wouldn't leave me alone until it was written down. I still adore these characters too much to make them suffer forever, but they are going to have to suffer a while yet before things get happy again. Thanks for giving this a chance! 
> 
> Also, everyone should go give snogandagrope lots of love and thanks because the fact that this is so coherent is all owing to her amazing editing skills! Go follow her on tumblr because she is awesome!

  
  


Cover Art by the amazing http://thislostcastaway.tumblr.com/!  


  
Love Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,  
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.  
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,  
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms  
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;  
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,  
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

 

**June 12, 2014**

               When Q opens the door to his quarters in the basement of MI6 he is greeted by complete darkness, which is fine, because it suits his mood perfectly.  He doesn’t want to see any more of this shit hole than he has to, so he hasn’t had the lights on since he moved a few things a week ago.  He’s taken to simply lighting a few candles if he needs to.  He drops his laptop on the folding table in the living room/mini kitchen area then slouches into the bedroom and drops onto the single bed, kicking off his shoes but not even bothering to undress.  He reaches over to turn his ipod player onto random because it’s too fucking quiet and closes his eyes as the oh-so-appropriate “Comfortably Numb” keeps the silence at bay.  Then, as he’s been doing for the past two weeks, he tries unsuccessfully not to think of James.

               Predictably, this means James is all that his traitorous mind wants to focus on. These days it’s either James or tracking down that bastard Smith, who Q holds personally accountable for the disaster that has become his life, and neither holds any particular appeal.  Fucking Smith.  These criminal masterminds are like hydras, take one out and another head is right there to take his place.  He’s beginning to understand James’ psyche much better because after less than two years as Quartermaster he’s ready to lose it over the sheer futility of their jobs since the world bloody refuses to stay saved.  A year of relative peace, that’s all they had before Smith showed up on the world stage.  If peace is what you can call a string of increasingly dangerous missions bracketed by days or weeks of spending as much time together and having as much sex as possible.

               What had followed was six months of hell while James chased Smith all over the world and got increasingly pissed off at everyone, Q included, for failing to actually find the man.  Not that Q was any less frustrated and the near-constant separation didn’t help.  Then came the absolute disaster that was the Munich mission, ending in four agents dead and James finally coming home- but only because of a spectacularly broken foot and ankle.  He’d been put into a cast that was supposed to stay on for at least six weeks and when he arrived back at their flat Q had never seen him in such an unalterably dark mood.  Nothing Q did seemed to cheer James up for long and even sex just pissed him off since the cast kept getting in the way and kept him from being able to pick Q up and carry him like he used to.

               Q hadn’t cared about the sex, he’d just been happy to have James around again.  But it seemed James didn’t share his sentiment.  All he did was snip at Q and within a week James had contacted M and told him that he was requesting to be officially retired early.  Unofficially, he planned on working for MI6 in secret while trying to get a job somewhere in Smith’s organization.  He figured that posing as a pissed off ex-agent who was forcibly retired and therefore had no love lost for the organization and suddenly needed a new way to make his living after it took his best years then kicked him to the curb would be a fairly believable story.  Hell, even Q had bought it after a few weeks of James’ black moods.  And the more James picked fights the more Q lost his patience and began to fight back and things had pretty well degenerated quickly.  Q knew James hated to feel useless and he hated relying on him so much, even if Q didn’t mind taking care of him.  But rather than explain that, James became a huge pain in the ass.  It was almost as if he was trying to drive Q away and in retrospect, Q supposes he was.  They had made it through five torturous and emotionally draining weeks when the end finally came, though at the time Q hadn’t seen it for what it was.

               Q thinks that he could live to be a hundred and never forget their last night together.  He doesn’t want to remember it, it hurts to think about now, but he can’t help it.  He sighs and pulls the  blankets over his clothed form and surrenders to the memory again, hoping to catch some detail he’d missed before as unlikely as that is after so many mental re-plays.

               _Two weeks ago he’d come home to their flat late so it was already dark, and he took a few steps into the shadows before he felt something was off.  He paused and looked down and his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of James in a pool of light from the open bathroom door, naked and on his knees with a riding crop laid across them and his head down._

                 _“I’ve been waiting for you…sir,” James declared in a quiet voice without looking up._

_Q swallowed hard and dropped his bag, instantly and painfully aroused because it had been so fucking long since James wanted to play and even then it was rare for him to request the submissive role.  Q had suspected something must be up, but he pushed that thought aside in favor of the much louder thought of, ‘oh hell yes.’  “Have you?”  Q sauntered up to James and brushed a hand through his hair before reaching down to cup James’ chin and tilt his face up.  “That’s good.  That’s exactly what you’re meant to do, just wait for me to come and take my pleasure from you.”  He knew it was a little cruel to say, that he shouldn’t be agreeing to scene at all with the way his anger towards James’ attitude lately was nowhere near under control, but he hadn’t cared at the time._

_“Yes, sir.  That’s all I’m meant to do,” James agreed, his eyes clouding with barely-concealed bitterness._

_Q bent down and took the riding crop then stood and ran it slowly up James’ chest to flick it over his nipples.  “And you do it so well, you beautiful, rebellious creature.  But surely you don’t think it escapes my notice that you wish it were otherwise, do you?”  Q brought the whip down in a singing arc so that the leather tab at the end made an audible snap when it made contact with the tops of James’ thighs.  James flinched but didn’t say anything.  “You’ve been a bad pet, haven’t you?  Snapping at the one who takes care of you, wishing you could leave…”  The ‘me’ went unvoiced but it hung in the air clearly.  “I think you need to be punished for that.”_

_“Yes, sir.  I want you to punish me, please,” James asked in a relieved voice, as if he was afraid Q wasn’t going to go along with his game._

_“Oh, don’t you worry.  I will.  Now, I want you to crawl to the door of the bedroom then stand in the doorway and brace your hands on the frame.  Quickly now.”_

_James nodded and turned to crawl towards their bedroom and Q flicked the whip across the bottom of the foot without a cast, smacking it soundly and repeatedly as James crawled away.  Once James reached the door he stood facing away as ordered and Q took a moment just to appreciate him.  Even with the cast and the loss in muscle tone from remaining so inactive for the past five weeks he was beautiful.  Q suspected nothing would ever really change that, actually, but that was a thought for another time._

_“Very good.  I’m going to make it hurt beautifully, just the way you want it.”  He trailed the crop up James’ calves, thighs, up to lift his balls lightly before bringing his arm back and snapping the thin end soundly across James firm ass.  He leaned in close to kiss the back of James’ neck.  “And I’m going to love every moment of it.”_

_James visibly relaxed at that.  “Please,” he growled, and there was something just a little too desperate in his tone._

_Q knows he should have stopped, he should have asked what was wrong, but at the time he had been so frustrated with life and James was offering him an outlet and he’d just taken it.  He brought the crop down repeatedly until James’ ass and thighs were covered with lightly welted pink stripes, pausing after each hit to run his fingers gently over each warm mark.  As he did, he showered James with praise, telling him he was gorgeous, amazing, all the things James had seemed to stop wanting to hear that Q so desperately wanted him to believe.  Once he was satisfied he slipped around to James’ front and kissed him hard and James had responded with a ferocity that Q hadn’t felt in months and it felt like James wanted him again and Q had nearly broken the scene to just pull James into bed but he suspected that James wouldn’t let him.  So he pulled back and opened their toy chest, taking out James’ favorite nipple clamps with the perfectly fitted chains leading down to a leather cock ring._

_As Q attached the clamps and snapped the leather ring tight James whined and bucked his hips forward, his hard length straining and twitching against his stomach and Q had loved him so much right then, he thought he would go crazy from the fact that James seemed to have stopped.  Q pushed James’ cock down with the whip and James arched his back, pulling the chains tight and hissing.  “Come here love,” Q ordered, grabbing the chain and leading James over to their long-neglected swing in the corner of the room.  He helped James into it, guiding the casted leg carefully through the leg strap.  “There.  Now just lie back and let me take my pleasure from you.  Don’t you dare come, I’m going to make this last.”  He reached out and flicked the tab of the crop teasingly over James’ exposed hole and James growled._

_Q went back to the box and pulled out a bottle of flavored Motion Lotion lubricant that heated up when blown on and dripped some onto his finger.  He then circled it around one of the nipple clamps and leaned in to blow on it lightly.  James made a delicious noise.  “Yes love, let me hear you.”  Q painted James all over with the lube, warming it with his breath then licking it off, savoring the taste of cherry combined with the salty tang of James’ skin.  With his other hand he teased at James’ hole with one lube-slicked finger, finally dipping it inside and crooking it to brush unerringly over James’ prostate and before long the swing was swaying with James’ attempts to push himself harder onto Q’s tormenting finger._

_Q kissed James unhurriedly before moving away to grab a condom, lube and a string of anal beads that increased steadily in size.  He slicked them up and leaned forward to bite James’ collarbone as he slipped the first small bead in.  “How does that feel?”_

_“Like it isn’t enough.  Sir.”  James replied in an uncharacteristic display of instant compliance._

_Q smiled and nibbled his way up James’ neck and bit his jaw as he pushed a second bead in.  Then he licked his way into James’ mouth, swallowing his low noises of pleasure as he slowly fed the entire string in until all that was left was his finger in the ring on the end, knuckle pressed against James’ trembling flesh.  “So perfect…” he tugged on the ring teasingly and James’ muscles contracted as he squirmed in the swing, completely undone.  “Are you ready for me now?” Q whispered against James’ lips._

_“Hard please, make me ache with it for days,” James pleaded, his eyes wild and strangely hinting at grief._

_Q had wondered briefly what he had to be sad about, but he was determined to make James forget about it.  So he put on a condom then steadily pulled the beads out, thrilled at the way James’ eyes rolled back as he let out a very rare wrecked cry of nearly too-much pleasure before Q lined his cock up and grabbed James’ hips then pushed all the way inside until he was pressed as closely against James as possible.  “James…god I fucking love you…”_

_James’ eyes went soft for a moment, but then the desperation was back.  “Then fuck me already,” he challenged, and so Q had done it._

_He used the swing to full effect, slamming into James as hard as he could, leaving marks from his fingers on James’ hips and refusing to touch James’ bobbing cock.  He tried to hold off his orgasm but it had been so long since James had been this present during sex that he was too overwhelmed to last more than five minutes.  “Don’t you fucking come,” Q ordered just before his entire body tensed up then shook with the force of his release.  He pulled out then quickly helped a desperate looking James out of the swing and went to lie on the bed.  “Come here, I want you to jerk yourself off and paint my face with your cum.”_

_James hadn’t hesitated, he crawled up over Q, hissed when Q released the cock ring and clamps, then wrapped a hand around his aching length and did as Q asked in under a minute.  Creamy strings covered Q’s face, dripped into his eye socket and made him close his eyes and James had leaned down and licked it off, swiping his tongue over Q’s eyelid and spreading the moisture into his cheekbones with his thumbs before kissing Q thoroughly, sharing his taste.  Q  had felt drunk on James, covered in him and happier than he had been in half a year at least as James wrapped himself around Q and kissed him until he was asleep.  When Q had woken up, James and all his belongings had been gone.  All that remained was a note that read simply, “Goodbye.”_    

               Q shakes his head, slipping out of the memory to find that his cheeks are wet again.  It’s been two weeks and he hasn’t heard anything from James despite all his efforts to contact him.  Not even when the threat from Smith had come in a week ago, the one that said he was going to commandeer a few nukes and have a merry old time with them and he knew just how he was going to do it.  M had taken this as a hazard to Q’s safety, given the fact that he had recently assisted in the Navy’s refitting of its ballistic missile submarine, the Vigilant, and forced him into these safe quarters in MI6.  So here he is and after only a week he is already feeling his sanity wear thin.  He wants to just quit and have done with this bullshit and be free to find James, who has gone completely off radar which is really saying something, and beat some sense into him.  But he can’t.  At least not until Smith is caught and everyone he cares about at MI6 is safe again.  He sighs and steels himself for another insomnia-filled night, determined to track the bastard down in the morning.

**July 6, 2014**

               Five weeks after James walked out of his life Q is still caught up in what feels like the same day on maddening repeat.  Smith is still out there.  James still hasn’t contacted him.  His workers have taken to smiling at him like he’s a dangerously unstable person who must be humored and placated at all costs and even Eve is starting to treat him like he’s liable to either go Chernobyl or request a padded room any second.  Probably the only thing that stops him is the fact that James has just shown back up on the grid.  It’s only in the form of messages passed via encoded classified ads since no one is willing to use any technological means, but it’s something.  He has finally broken into Smith’s organization and is part of a fledgling drug-smuggling operation in Felixstowe.  It’s a deliberately small role since doubtless Smith is testing him so he is asking for MI6’s help to make sure he makes a name for himself.  M knows something has gone horribly wrong between the two of them but his first concern is for the welfare of England so of course he puts Q, with his successful history in the drug business, on the case.  Q refrains from any personal contact even though he knows James has to know he’s the one ensuring that James is extremely successful in obtaining contacts and securing product.  M may not love the idea of allowing more drugs into the country but he’s aware they’re playing a long game here and sacrifices are necessary.

    Q spends the next few weeks strangely grateful for the fact that the world seems to have gone completely haywire since that means all of his agents are out on assignment and he is so busy keeping all of their equipment functional and designing new gadgets that he barely has any spare minutes to waste obsessing over James.  Unfortunately it also means he barely has any time left to dedicate to searching for Smith and he has to leave the job to a few of his most skilled employees.  They aren’t having any more success than he did.  Q is starting to suspect that Smith is behind most of the worldwide havoc and has designed it specifically to keep all of MI6, along with all the other major world governments, busy for exactly that reason.  That, or his paranoia is simply a side effect of sleep deprivation and anxiety.  Either way, he knows he’s not going to be able to keep up this pace for long and something has got to give.       

   

**August 7, 2014**

               Four weeks after James makes contact with MI6, Q is entirely aware that if someone were being generous they would describe him as looking like a homeless junkie.  He hasn’t seen direct sunlight in going on three months and he doesn’t think he’s slept more than four straight hours in that time either.  These days Q is living on coffee, tea no longer suffices, and possibly one cafeteria meal a day along with the daily doughnut Eve stares at him until he consumes during their morning chat.  It’s a wonderful fucking life.

    He knows James is alive but it’s destroying him that he doesn’t know anything else.  Is James okay?  Does he still think about Q?  Does he feel like he can’t breathe when he wakes up to an empty space next to him?  At first Q had convinced himself that James left out of some misplaced sense of duty or because he thought Q would be safer that way but now...Q honestly thought James would have contacted him by now.  Surely James could have left him a message like with the classified ads if he’d really wanted to.  But he hasn’t.  Q wishes he could bring himself to hate James because that would be infinitely easier.  But apparently Q’s masochistic streak runs deeper than he knew because he can’t help torturing himself with images of that last night together and every time he does he comes to the same conclusion.  When he left, James still loved him.   

 

**August 23, 2014**

               Two weeks later Q finally comes across an opportunity to both see James again and take Smith out and even though it’s insane and likely suicidal he has to do it.  He makes the necessary and obscenely complicated arrangements then escapes.  M is going to kill him if he doesn’t end up getting killed on his own, since what he is about to do is in no way sanctioned.  He leaves very specific instructions regarding his plans and he knows that once they are in motion M will really have no choice other than to go along with them or risk ruining all of James’ work.  He’s likely to get fired for this at the very least, but one way or another, damn it, this shit is going to end.

007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007007

**May 28, 2014**

               James sits on the end of their bed and tries to force himself to move.  Q will be home soon and he needs to get ready for him.  It’s too late to go back on his plan; all of his things have just been moved out and into storage and all that remains is this, their last night together.  He could just leave now and he knows it.  Maybe it would be less cruel, less likely to break Q, but he can’t bring himself to go without creating one final memory to lose himself in once he’s gone.  And as fucked up as it is, he doesn’t want Q to think James left because he doesn’t want him, doesn’t still love him, even though his whole reason for leaving is that he needs Q to look genuinely hurt.  He wants Q to have some hope that if James is still alive after this he will come back to him.  But everyone needs to believe that James is finished with Q because he has no idea how closely Smith will be watching him and there is no way he is going to break into the crime lord’s organization with a boyfriend who would be extremely useful to Smith’s plans.  Smith can’t think James has any sort of special ability to get him Q, so for all intents and purposes Q has to hate him.

               James puts his head his hands and tries to steady himself, tries to get into the correct headspace but he doesn’t know if he can.  This is all just so fucked up.  What he’s about to do is the hardest thing he’s ever done.  He’s hurt a lot of people, but never someone he loved and so deliberately.  And the sad thing is, Q will probably buy the fact that James is finished with him without much trouble because James knows he’s behaved like an utter bastard these past few weeks.  But he hates being useless, and that’s what he’s been.  Every moment sitting in this flat alone while Q was working reminded him that without this job, without someone to kill or a mission to accomplish he is good for nothing.  He was stupid to ever consider leaving MI6 because what in the hell would he do?  No, he’s going to die in this job, he sees that now.  And that is infinitely unfair to Q, who is young and could do so many other things with his life should he wish it.  James wants to keep him, wants to have Q to come home to always until one day he just doesn’t come home…but that is an awful thing to ask of someone, even someone who loves him.

               If he gets out of this alive he doesn’t know what he’ll do.  He will want to come crawling back to Q, apologizing and begging him to take him back because James doesn’t know how to go back to living without him since even with the way he’s been acting he still loves Q as much as he did when they left Skye.  But he’ll still probably just hurt Q again, and if they work for MI6 they’ll still be apart more than together and he hates that there seems to be no good solution.  Well, he supposes he’ll just worry about trying to find one if he’s alive to look for it.  He takes a deep breath then stands up and begins to remove his clothes so that he can go wait for Q.

**May 29, 2014**

               When James wakes up he finds himself completely wrapped around Q as he holds the slender man closely to his chest.  For a split second he just appreciates the warmth of their skin as it’s pressed together all along his front, they way Q’s hair tickles his nose, and he is completely happy.  Then reality sinks in and he reflexively tightens his grip on Q and thinks that this is going to hurt like hell.  He takes a few more seconds to memorize the way Q feels in his arms before gently slipping away and out of bed.  He goes out to the living room and dresses quickly, and then because he can’t help himself he scribbles a quick note before walking out the door, locking it behind him.    

**July 5, 2014**

               When James arrives at the warehouse in Felixstowe their team has just been put together so the two men he meets there haven’t known each other for longer than a few hours, which James supposes is a plus.  Oscar is middle-aged and balding, reserved, almost shy and doesn’t have a dominant bone in his body.  He reminds James of Wormtail from the Harry Potter movies Q made him watch.  Fortunately he’s just in charge of technology so he will basically be staying in the office and making contact with their suppliers and purchasers, setting up their security system and getting their orders from Smith.  James has an instant and irrational dislike for the man based solely on the fact that his job description is a dumbed down version of Q’s.

Mason though…James can already tell they are going to be in a constant fight for dominance from the way the younger, well-built but clearly street and not military trained man squares himself and his eyes harden as he takes James in.  As far as James can tell they are both here to be the muscle.  Move heavy shipments, look scary and kill anyone who fucks with them, that kind of thing.  He suspects this is going to degenerate into something of a cock fight and things aren’t going to turn out well for one of them.  He has no illusions as to which one that will be.

 

**July 8 2014**

 

Their very first assignment demonstrates, rather painfully, exactly the kind of men he’s stuck with.  Smith has provided them with their first shipment of coke but it’s up to them to find distributors and other suppliers.  There is currently an overabundance of demand and far less supply than usual thanks to Q throwing global drug trafficking back into the dark ages a year ago when he essentially bankrupted all the major players.  

 

Mason decides he’s the man for the job of networking since he already has a few contacts in the area and no one knows who James is.  James allows it, which proves to be a mistake when two rival gangs show up to claim the drugs since Mason was less than stealthy in his search for a local dealer.  This comes as a complete surprise since Oscar, who is supposed to be in charge of security, can’t figure out how to hack the local CCTV cameras fast enough to warn them of who is approaching.  The only reason they aren’t all killed is because when Mason starts waving his gun around at everyone James knocks him out with the butt of his own gun and shoots one gang leader and three of his men before anyone else has settled on what to do.  The rival gang takes that as a pretty clear sign they are getting the drugs and helps James quickly take out the remaining five men.  Mason makes it clear that he’s never going to forgive James for it and James makes it equally clear he doesn’t give a shit what Mason thinks of him.            

 

               They settle into a wary truce over the next few weeks, none of them willing to trust the others since each of them has plenty to hide.   In James’ mind it’s rather stupid to throw a team of dangerous men together and just hope it will work out, and his opinion of Smith lowers another few notches.  Likely he is just into so many criminal areas these days, and has so much money, he’s willing to just throw things at the wall and see what sticks.  If this little operation gets shut down there will be no way to trace it back to Smith regardless; he’ll just take his profits and run as he’s done countless times before.  
  
     
  
 **August 20, 2014**  
  
               James walks into Oscar’s office and fixes the man with a deviously pleased grin.  Predictably, Oscar looks slightly nervous to be alone in a room with him.  “So James…I assume you finally have good news?”  
  
               “I do.  You can tell Smith that I’ll have his double-oh agent for him within the week, so anytime he wants to stop being so fucking cryptic and tell me what he wants me to do with him once he’s here that would be great.”  
  
               “I can’t tell him that!”  Oscar looks panicked at the very idea.  “He’s already pissed that it’s taken you this long.  The only reason you’re still around is that you’re some sort of savant when it comes to procuring high-quality product.”  
  
               “Like I’ve said a hundred times before, it’s not actually that easy to both track down and figure out how to capture a double-oh agent.  Especially if I’m not exactly MI6’s favorite person at the moment.  Now I can’t go get him myself, he’ll run if he sees me.  So you can tell Smith I’ll give Mason idiot-proof instructions.  Really, really idiot-proof.”  
  
               “I’ll tell him, but this had better work.”  
  
               “Don’t worry.  It will.”  James knows this because he sent a coded message this morning letting M know that he needed an agent in 4 days in order to get Smith to finally show himself, since it’s clear by now there is no way of getting to him other than luring him with bait.  James suggests 003 but he isn’t sure where he is at the moment.  James will do his best not to injure the agent severely, but there is about a one hundred percent possibility that he will have to undergo some sort of brutal interrogation.  Nothing a 00 isn’t trained for, and James knows it’s in the job description, but he still knows it will be difficult to hurt someone he actually likes.  
  
               When he’s finished with Oscar, James has nothing left to do for the afternoon so he continues his habit of taking a bottle of whiskey down to the waterfront and behaving like the pathetically depressed post-breakup character from a rom com that he is.  It’s been almost six weeks since he’s seen Q and he is going slowly and quietly insane.  He hadn’t counted on it hurting this much for this long, though he supposes he’s never left someone he loved before so he really had no frame of reference for this kind of pain.  He knows Q is alive because it has to be him who is sending all the drug shipments and contacts he requests, but he wants to know how Q is doing.  Is he okay?  Has he moved on?  James grips the bottle tighter at the thought of another man kissing Q, another man’s lips wrapped around Q’s cock.  Fuck.  He can’t contact Q, it’s not safe, but he is so ready for this shit to be over.  This ploy with the 00 agent had better finally bring Smith to him, because he doesn’t think he is going to make it much longer without going to find Q and telling him that even though James is an utter bastard, he loves him and he’ll do anything to have them together and happy again.  He’ll leave MI6, sit at their flat and learn to fucking knit, anything it takes.  He can’t believe he was so stupid for all those weeks Q was taking care of him while he was stuck in a cast, so self-centered.  Well okay he can, but he regrets it.  But since he can’t do anything about it now, he just dangles his legs over the pier and takes another sip.  
  
 **August 24, 2014**  
  
               Once Mason leaves with his painfully clear instructions regarding where to find the 00 agent, what he’ll be wearing to this supposed meeting with an informant, and a tranquilizer gun to knock him out with, James starts getting the well-insulated interrogation/holding room ready.  He’s just hoping even an overly cocky young gangster can’t manage to fuck up a snatch and grab when the agent in question is going to allow himself to be caught.  Mason has been ordered not to hurt him because this is James’ man to deal with, but he really has no illusions that 003, or whoever they send him, is going to arrive completely unscathed because knowing Mason he’ll feel the need for it to look like there was some kind of struggle he came out on top of.  Keeping Mason away from him once he’s here could also prove to be a bit of an issue.  James grits his teeth and hopes this doesn’t turn into one giant clusterfuck.  If Smith won’t be drawn out by this James knows he’s going to have to break his cover in order to get the other agent out alive and he’s not sure they’ll get such a clear shot at him for a long time, if ever, and this could all have been for nothing.  
  
               James makes sure the chains dangling from the ceiling are easily adjustable and the wooden chair and bench bolted to the floor are free from splinters.  He sets out some instruments that are easiest to manipulate when it comes to torturing a man for information so that he can make it look good but at least cause no permanent damage: a long coiled whip, a hunting knife, waterboarding supplies, a few sharp wooden dowels, a cane, and some random tools just to look menacing.  Fortunately Mason’s knowledge of interrogation techniques probably extends to movies and wielding a baseball bat so he won’t really know what James is doing or how much it would hurt as long as the agent makes it look convincing.  His only real fear is the possibility of Smith wanting him to use sexual assault in an attempt to damage the agent’s mental state.  He knows the agent would go along with it, and the danger of major psychological trauma would be minimal since he’d be in a totally different headspace than a true kidnapping victim…but James would rather avoid it.  In all his years he has never used rape as an information gathering tactic, his partners have always been more than willing to sleep with him, and he wants to keep it that way.  
  
               At 4:00, the time he assumes Mason should be back by, he seats himself on the table with the interrogations supplies and waits, wondering why he feels so much more apprehensive that he usually does.  He clamps down on the thought that it’s because he’s gotten used to Q’s steadying voice in his ear, because he needs a clear head for this and going into it with distractions could get them both killed.  
  
               Finally the door bangs open and Mason comes in dragging a limp body.  For a moment James genuinely forgets to breathe and he experiences the dizzying sensation of falling headlong off a cliff as Mason drops a bleeding and unconscious Q at his feet.  He stares for a moment as his mind scrambles to re-adjust for the unexpected scenario and he orders himself not to react even though all of his instincts are screaming at him to fucking kill Mason and get Q the hell out of here.  He jumps off the table and digs his nails hard into the palms of his hands to keep himself from doing anything stupid.  “Mason, what the fuck is this?”  
  
               Mason looks confused.  “It’s your double-oh agent.  He was right where you said, waiting at the docks in a suit and green tie and smoking and everything.”  
  
               “This is not a fucking double-oh agent you useless piece of shit!”  James doesn’t shout, he uses his low dangerous voice as he stalks around Q’s body and Mason has the good sense to back away.  “You are so goddamned lucky something that went wrong turned out so well for you.  Now go explain to Oscar that we have MI6’s Quartermaster in our custody, and convince him it was our plan all along to capture him and not a field agent all along but we didn’t want to tell Smith until Q was in our custody.  If he has any suspicion this isn’t exactly what we wanted to happen, I don’t really want to know what he’ll do to us.  Now get the fuck out.”  Mason runs, looking distinctly nervous.  
  
               Once he’s gone James drops to his knees next to Q and tries to control the trembling in his hands as he check’s Q’s pulse, which is slow but steady.  The dosage in the tranquilizer had been meant for a man twice what Q must weigh now, since he looks like he’s lost a few kilos since James last saw him, so he has no idea how long Q will stay under.  He grabs a rag off the table and dips it in a bucket of water and wipes the blood from the cut above Q’s brow bone so he can see how bad it is.  Thankfully it’s not too deep; it must have come from one of the big ugly rings Mason insists on wearing.  James grits his teeth and tells himself he can’t kill the man.  Yet.  He picks Q up carefully, dismayed at how easy it is, and as much as he hates to do it he sets him down in the chair.  Q’s head hangs down limply as James, hating himself already, cuffs his wrists and ankles to the wood.  What in the bloody ever loving hell was Q thinking?  Well, James supposes he knows.  Q is probably as over this situation as he is, and he knows that while Smith might come for a 00 agent he will definitely come for Q.  So here he is, and James would bet any amount of money that M did not sanction this particular mission.  He’s wearing contacts and it makes him look even younger.  James runs a hand through Q’s short hair; he must have cut it to look more like an agent and it makes him look so very different from the way James remembers him.  He doesn’t like it.  He doesn’t want to take his hand away.  He doesn’t want to hurt him and he’s going to.  Q must know that, so him being here at all means that Q is going to let him.  Fuck.  
  
               Five minutes later Mason comes back into the room to find James straddling a chair backwards and watching Q.  “Smith is happy; he says you finally did a good job.  He also says as long as you keep doing a good job you can play with him until Smith gets here the day after tomorrow, but if you go easy on him then I get a turn.  If you don’t want to fuck him, I will.”  He flashes James an evil grin.  “He is rather pretty, isn’t he?”  
  
               “He is rather mine,” James growls, “and I don’t like to share my things.”  
  
               Mason looks disappointed.  “Fine.  But I’ll be reporting back to Smith on your progress.  He wants you to make him give Smith access to all the Navy’s files on its ballistic missile submarines.”  
  
               “Well he’s going to have to bloody wait until this guy wakes up, isn’t he?  And I don’t know when that will be, so unless you want to sit here and stare at him with me until he does I suggest you go start sorting the latest shipment before those impatient Russian bastards get here.”  
  
               “Whatever.  I’ll be back to watch the show though,” he says with a tone that James does not approve of before he leaves.    
  
               Oscar walks hesitantly into the room a few seconds later, looking more like Wormtail than ever.  He is holding a webcam awkwardly and looking vaguely nauseous as he looks around at the instruments on the table, eyes flicking over Q then away quickly.  “So ah, Smith wants me to put this up so he can watch on a live feed.”  He reaches up and sticks it to the wall opposite the table so that it affords a front and side view of Q in the chair.  “It has a microphone so he’ll be able to hear, but you can’t hear him so he’ll still be passing instructions to you through me.  He ah, well he does have a bit of a paranoid side.”  He glances over at Q again.  “I didn’t really sign up for this you know,” Oscar mutters with a shake of his head as he edges out the door looking troubled and leaving James alone with Q again.  
  
               James resumes his position in the chair in front of Q and tries to figure out how to deal with this new development.  He was really hoping to at least be able to talk to Q alone before Mason returned, but now that Smith can hear and see everything James won’t even be allowed that much.  He can angle his body away from the camera so Smith can’t see his face, so he can communicate somewhat without being seen but it will be minimal.  He can probably get away with some Morse code if he taps a finger against Q’s skin, but again it will be risky to try too often.  There is also the added factor that there is no way Smith doesn’t know they were together at one point and he doesn’t know how that will affect things though it definitely means he’s going to have to come across as even more callous than he’d expected.  Even though James was a total bastard to him there at the end, there is no way Q will think James actually wants to hurt him…is there?  
  
               Half an hour later Q finally begins to stir and his first thought is that tranquillizer darts are a serious bitch.  He shifts his limbs slightly and notes the handcuffs; no surprise there.  Then he slowly sits up straight in the chair, shaking his aching head and trying to clear it before opening his eyes and blinking groggily.  When his vision stops swimming the first thing he sees is James leaning on the back of a chair a few meters away, looking at him like he’s…well, like he’s thrilled to see that his victim is finally awake.  Q’s heart plummets for a moment, but then James’ eyes flick to the left quickly and Q notices the camera attached to the wall.  He takes a steadying breath.  He supposes it was too much to hope that he would be allowed any time alone with James.  James…god but he looks good.  Q can freely acknowledge that he is what any therapist would call disturbingly co-dependent on James, judging from the fact that despite everything he still loves him and he is positively aching for James to touch him even though he knows it will probably be with a knife in his hand.  And he really just doesn’t care.  But if they have any hope of both catching Smith and getting out of here alive then Q needs to stick to the plan.  He schools his features into a look of deepest loathing as he bites out, “So 007, this is the rock you crawled under.”  
  
               James looks taken aback for a split second but he slips easily into the role of a bitter ex…boyfriend and agent, really.  “I didn’t crawl under any rock, Quartermaster.  MI6 dropped it on my head; and you did an admirable job of helping them do it.”  Good.  Establish that they don’t care for each other anymore.  
  
               “Don’t play the martyr Bond, it doesn’t suit you.  You were given a fair severance package.  It’s not my fault that you got too old and broken to do the job anymore.”  Q glares at him and makes a show of struggling against the cuffs.  
  
               “A fair severance package?  They may as well have handed me a sodding fruit basket.  No, M can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just cut me loose and expect me to thank him for it and go take up stamp collecting.  What else am I supposed to do?  What else am I good for other than what MI6 made of me?  If all those months of chasing Smith taught me anything it was that has the right idea.  He does what he wants and he doesn’t take shit from anyone and he makes good money doing it.”  
  
               “Well you have fun with that.  And I’ll have fun taking you down.”     
  
               “Big words for someone in your position, Q.  And I am having fun.  This…” he gets up and walks over to the table and picks up the hunting knife.  He moves to stand in front of Q and begins sliding the knife under the buttons of his suit coat and flicking them off one by one.  “This is going to be so much fun.”  He angles himself away from the camera slightly, just enough that he can give Q a subtle wink.  
  
               “I don’t care how much fun you have Bond, I’m not telling you anything,” Q spits out, squirming back and away from the blade.  
  
               “That’s good news.  The longer it takes you to talk the more time I get to play.  Don’t you miss playing with me, Q?”  James has finished with the coat and begins working on the buttons of the shirt beneath.  
  
               Q shivers at the poison in James’ voice and reminds himself that this is all just a game; that must be what James means.  “You know I don’t.   You know it made me sick to indulge your perverted fantasies.  If you didn’t suck cock like such an expensive whore I wouldn’t have stuck with you nearly as long as I did!”  
  
               James drops the knife, pulls his hand back and slaps Q hard across the face then crowds into his space, grabbing his chin and forcing it back towards him.  Q is staring at him with wide eyes, clearly not having to fake being shocked and hurt.  “I’d say ‘talk like that to me again and I’ll gag you,’ but then I wouldn’t get to hear you scream.”  He has his other hand wrapped around the back of Q’s neck and he taps out a quick word, praying Q catches it.  
  
               Q’s cheek stings and his heart is pounding.  He knew James was going to hurt him, but he just now realized how hard it’s going to be to watch him pretend like he loves it.  God, he’d better be pretending.  Then Q feels the deliberate tapping of James’ finger on the back of his neck.  It’s Morse code for ‘scene’ and Q lets out a shaky breath of relief then spits in James’ face.  
  
               “Oh you little shit, you’re going to pay for that,” James growls, knowing Q will recognize the pet name as a term of endearment despite his angry tone.  He slaps Q hard across the other cheek before standing up and backing away.  
  
               “Why James, you started without me,” Mason drawls from the door, making James jump slightly.      
  
               James turns and fixes him with a dangerous look.   “This has nothing to do with you.  You know nothing about interrogation techniques.  About the delicate balance between broken and useless.  So you just stay the fuck out of my way or I swear to god and all things unholy I will strap you to this chair in his place and teach you a few things.”  
  
                Mason’s jaw clenches and he glares back at James with what is probably supposed to be a challenging look but mostly it just comes across as petulant.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
               “Don’t presume to know what I would dare.  I can promise you this; if you so much as touch him you’ll find out.”  James turns back to Q, ignoring the other man completely.  “So.  Where to begin?  First off, I think you look far too comfortable in that chair.”  James walks over to the chain he has fixed to the floor by way of two rings bolted down and a long piece of rebar threaded through them with the chain between.  It’s crude, but effective.  He pulls the bar out and grabs the leather cuffs attached to the short end of the chain then walks to stand in front of Q.  “There’s no point in struggling, unless of course you want to amuse me,” he comments as he attaches one leather cuff to Q’s right wrist then unlocks the metal one.  
  
               “Why would I give you the pleasure?” Q growls, not bothering to resist as James attaches the other cuff then bends to unlock his ankles.  
  
               “Oh you will, don’t worry your pretty head about that,” James assures Q as he pulls hard on the long end of the chain and forces Q to his feet, arms stretched over his head.  He kicks Q’s feet out from under him and only the chain keeps him from hitting the cement floor.  James grips the chain and walks back to the rings on the floor, dragging Q along until he’s close enough that he has to stand on his tiptoes to avoid having his arms pulled up too uncomfortably.  James then runs the bar back through the chain and fixes it in place.  “Yes, that’s much better,” James declares as he comes to stand in front of Q and runs his fingers teasingly up Q’s exposed chest.  
  
               “Why don’t you just tell me what you want so I can get to the part where I refuse to give it to you?” Q asks, his voice trembling just enough to contradict his brave words.  
  
               “Because that would spoil the fun, lovely,” James croons, pushing Q’s clothing aside enough that he can bite down hard on one nipple just the way he knows Q likes it.  Q hisses and tries to move away, but he can’t.  “First I’ll show you how it will go if you don’t tell me what I want, and then I’ll ask you.”  James doesn’t know what Q’s plan is, but as much as he hates it he figures it will be best to drag this out since they need to get through the next day and a half at least before Smith makes his appearance.  
  
               “You always were a fucked up bastard, 007.  Just get on with it then why don’t you?” Q glares at James with a look of such pure hatred that James’ stomach does an uncomfortable flip.  
  
               “Well, since you asked so nicely…”  James strides over the table and grabs a pair of scissors then cuts Q’s shirt and suit coat off before unceremoniously undoing his belt and yanking Q’s trousers down.  Feeling vaguely sick, James bends down to pull off Q’s shoes and socks then jerks the trousers off, leaving Q in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.  His breath catches when he realizes just how much weight Q has lost and he becomes even more nervous about him having the strength to deal with what James is going to do to him.  When Smith shows up James hopes he gets to kill him slowly.  
  
               “Are you getting hard yet you fucking pervert?” Q growls, nervous sweat already beading over his skin.  He’s actually rather surprised he isn’t getting hard himself because an aggressive James is a sexy James, even if he’s about to cause him serious pain.      
  
               “Not yet but we’ve got plenty of time for that,” James says viciously.  “Now, what should we start with?  Something simple, just as a warm up.  Ah, this I think.”  He picks up the long leather whip and walks over towards Q, sliding it slowly over his palm so Q gets a clear look at it before he pulls it back and brings the braided leather singing against Q’s chest.  Q’s body twists as a bright pink mark appears on his pale skin and he bites back a low whimper.  James feels a confusing combination of revulsion and arousal, reminded of the very few times they’ve played like this.  
  
               “Is that all you’ve got?  Come on Bond, surely you can do better than that,” Q spits out.  
  
               “He’s got a point,” Mason comments from his position of leaning against the wall.  “Are you sure you know how to use that thing right?”  
  
               James whirls with a dangerous look on his face and before Mason has a chance to duck out of the way he snaps the whip so the end slashes the startled man across the cheek.  Mason yelps and brings a hand up to the tender spot, eyes widening as he sees blood on his fingers when he pulls them away.  “You fucking bastard,” he growls, taking a step towards James then stopping when James raises the whip threateningly.  
  
               “You take one more step and you’ll regret it,” James promises.  “Now shut the fuck up and let me do my job or bloody well get out of here.”  Mason slinks back to the wall, fists balled up and James sighs inwardly, knowing he’ll have to deal with the man later.  He turns back to Q who is watching him with a darkly amused expression.  
  
               “Trouble in paradise?  Looks like you need to teach your new boy toy to mind his manners.  Though considering how much success you had with me-“ Q yelps as the whip bites into the soft flesh of his stomach.  
  
               “Oh I am dearly looking forward to finally making you shut the hell up,” James snarls, prowling around to Q’s back and sending the whip snapping across it in rapid succession, leaving a pattern of criss-crossing pink welts.  
  
               Q grits his teeth and tries not to cry out, but he can’t help making small grunts of pain or stop the tears from welling up in his eyes because holy sodding hell does this hurt and he knows they’ve only just begun.  Then the whip catches him along the sensitive skin of his ribs and he decides there’s really no point in pretending it doesn’t hurts as bad as it does, especially with both Mason and Smith watching, so he lets his body jerk away reflexively and lets out a helpless little sob.  
  
               “That’s it, let me hear you pet,” James encourages, slinking around in front of Q and letting a hint of apology into his eyes when his face is briefly averted from their audience.  He adds a stinging mark to Q’s abdomen, grinning like a shark when Q cries out.  
  
               “I hope you burn in hell,” Q pants, legs shaking from the effort of keeping all of his weight off his wrists.  
  
               “Hmm, it’s looking rather likely you’ll beat me there,” James comments as he drags another burning line across Q’s back.  He’s being careful to only let every fourth or fifth stroke draw a small amount of blood, shallow little cuts he knows will heal and hopefully without scarring.  He grits his teeth in silent anger with every small rivulet of blood that trails down Q’s beautiful skin and prays to all the gods that Q will forgive him.  
  
               Q’s tears are flowing unchecked down his face and he’s gone beyond crying out to quietly sobbing by the time James finally stops. Only a small part of it is added drama on his part; his skin feels raw and stings like nothing he’s ever experienced before and it gives him a  renewed respect for his agents, most of whom he knows have gone through much worse over their years of service.  
  
               “There, that’s a good start,” James says, dropping the whip and palming the front of his trousers, trying to encourage himself to get hard.  It’s really not working.  “It’s a start here too,” he adds lewdly, then goes over to the chain and pulls the rod out.  He lets out some slack and Q’s tired legs give out, allowing James to re-secure the chain once he’s dropped to his knees.     
  
               “Let me guess.  Now you’re going to make me suck your cock.  How very original,” Q says in a scathing voice.  
  
               “I’m not going to make you do anything, Q.  You’re going to suck it of your own free will or I’m going to make you suck Oscar’s.  Sorry Mason, I already said he’s off limits to you and one has to be firm about these things.”  
  
               “Who the fuck is Oscar?”  Q asks, as if he’s considering it.  
  
               “Our ugly, slightly overweight and balding techie.  He’s our sorry excuse for you.  I’m afraid he has a penchant for cheap hookers though, so I really can’t vouch for his cleanliness.  Better the devil you know in this situation, don’t you think?”  James moves to stand in front of Q and swallows back the taste of bile as he begins unbuckling his belt.  
  
               Q closes his eyes as if in defeat and nods his head like there’s a gun pressed to the back of it.  “I hope this makes you feel like a big man, 007.  Though as I recall, that’s a bit of an overstatement.”  
  
               Mason chuckles from somewhere behind James.  “He’s got spirit, I’ll give him that.”  
  
               “Shut the fuck up, Mason.” Bond growls as he grabs the back of Q’s head and taps out  a rapid ‘red’ before pulling his mostly soft cock out and lifting it to Q’s lips. “Then you won’t have any problems choking on it, will you?” James tells Q, hoping he understands that this is not okay with him and he would stop if he could, hoping that his body’s lack of interest is saying that for him.  
  
               Q looks up at James, notes the self-loathing in his eyes, and feels oddly as if he is the one forcing this particular act of simulated rape upon James instead of the other way around.  “Lets’ just get this over with,” he grits out before opening his mouth and taking James’ pliant length all the way inside.  He has to consciously force himself not to moan in pleasure because despite the fact that they have an audience, he’s bleeding, and his arms are trapped in cuffs above his head, having James in his mouth feels like coming home.  There is a distinct possibility that he is more messed up than he’d suspected.  He keeps his eyes closed as if he can’t bear to see as well as feel this and flicks the words, “green. missed you.” across James’ steadily hardening length.  
  
               James visibly relaxes and rocks his hips forward.  “That’s good.  Keep that up and I might not even hurt you any more.  For now.”  
  
               Q grunts a disbelieving sound in reply and coaxes James to full hardness, using every trick he knows to get him off as quickly as possible while trying to act as if he hates every moment of it.  It’s complicated.  Especially since James threads his other hand into Q’s hair  and is urging him on, making it look like he’s forcing Q to go faster than he wants to. Q remembers to make gagging sounds but both of them know he loves it when James does this to him on any random Tuesday.  Q has never been more thankful for his masochistic tendencies.  
  
                 A few minutes later James growls, “Now swallow like the slut you are,” and spills down Q’s throat.  
  
               Q makes a show of choking and spits as if to get the taste out of his mouth once James finally releases him.  “You disgust me,” he pants as James tucks himself back in then walks over to the chain and gives Q some more slack before snapping a padlock onto the chain so it’s locked in place.  
  
               “Likewise,” James replies in an unaffected voice.  He goes over to the table and picks up a bottle of alcohol and a bunch of gauze.  He pours some of the liquid onto the cloth and begins wiping it slowly over each of the red marks from the whip.  Q knows enough to swear and whimper and pull away like it burns, but the aftercare is soothing and dulls the pain.  
  
               “What are you doing that for?” Mason asks suspiciously.  
  
               “Do you want to explain to Smith why his prisoner died of Sepsis?  Besides, it’s not like it feels good.”  James rolls his eyes and turns back to Q, going over every cut carefully.  “Now, there’s an empty bucket over there if you need to use the bathroom and some water in the other one.  Enjoy your night Q, I’ll see you in the morning.”  James walks out the door with Mason trailing behind him, and then he shuts and padlocks it from the outside.  “No one goes in there until morning, understood?”  
  
               Mason looks belligerent at the order.  “Why not?  It’s only like six o’clock; we’ve got tons more time to play with him.”  
  
               “Because he’s expecting me to come back in you utter moron.  He’s going to sit in there terrified, making up all kinds of scenarios in his head and the waiting is going to be worse than any torture I could devise right now.  It’s going to mess with his mind and that’s the part we need to get to, not his body.  Now go deal with the shipment, I’m going to check in with Oscar.  You might want to put something on that cut as well,” he adds with an evil grin before stalking away.  
  
               The next seven hours are an exercise in torture for James as well.  He checks in with Oscar who informs him that Smith is fine with his process for now but James had better get Q to cooperate tomorrow.  James checks in to watch Q on the monitor frequently because as much as it’s killing him inside, he knows he can’t go back into the room.  Q has gathered up his clothes and made a crude sort of blanket to lie on and he isn’t really moving much.   He and Mason deal with the Russian shipment and then James finally gets to drug the men’s evening beers.  Oscar and Mason are safely passed out by eleven, and then James gets some things together and sits watching Q, who is thankfully sleeping, on the monitor until 1:30 am.  He rigs the camera to play back a fifteen minute loop of Q sleeping and then runs to the interrogation room.  
  
               Q starts awake when he hears the door open.  He sits up and blinks blearily even as his body instinctively moves into a defensive position despite his bound wrists. He relaxes when he sees James and he opens his mouth to say something that never makes it out because James practically sprints over to him, drops to the ground and pulls Q into his lap.  Before Q’s mind has a chance to catch up with what is going on James is kissing him as if it’s all he’s ever wanted and making desperate noises that Q has never heard before as he holds Q close.  Q is shocked to discover that James is actually shaking, so he lifts his bound wrists, forcing the kiss to break for just a moment so he can loop his arms around James’ neck and returns the kiss with equal fervor, relieved that James clearly does still want him.  
  
               James moves to tangle his fingers into Q’s now short hair and just cradles his skull instead as he speaks against Q’s lips between kisses, unwilling to move any further away.    “I’ve had hours to think of something to say and I still can’t…Christ Q, what are you doing here?  I tried so hard to keep you safe and you just had to go and fuck it all up didn’t you?  You’re the biggest pain in the ass I know and I want to be pissed at you for being here but I can’t be.  Tell me you have some brilliant plan here because I’m really trying to figure out how we aren’t both just royally fucked.”  
  
               Q smiles against James’ mouth and licks across his lower lip before replying.  “I have a brilliant plan.  And I am seriously pissed at you so don’t think you’re off the hook for treating me like you did- and I’m not talking about the last few hours- but I’m not going to waste time yelling at you now. You’ll hear all about it after we’re out of this mess.  So, how much time do we have?”  
  
               “Twelve minutes to be safe. I only looped fifteen in case Smith or anyone else is watching.”  
  
               Q pulls back reluctantly.  “Okay.  I know how to take out Smith, but first we have to be sure he shows.  Or takes us to him, since I’d say the likelihood of him actually coming here is zero.  I’m going to give him the access he wants since I’ve warned M and the higher ups in the Navy to be on alert and it’s going to take him more than a day to enact any sort of plan.  Just in case though, I created a dummy system.  You don’t even want to know how difficult that was, but I created a program to copy and shift the data fractionally so that everything is off just slightly.  As soon as I give Smith access to the new system the real one will go offline.  He could definitely figure it out eventually, but he should be dead before he has that kind of time.”  James looks at him uncertainly.  “Look, I don’t have time to explain it better than this.  Just...I’ll let you convince me by tomorrow evening.  Try not to break anything you can’t fix, will you?” Q jokes, but he knows he’s telegraphing enough real nerves that James can tell just how scared he is.  
  
               “I won’t.  But I’m afraid it’s not going to be the best day we’ve ever spent together,” James admits as he runs the fingers of one hand over Q’s cheeks gently.  
  
               “Hmm, well considering you’ll actually be touching me and giving me all your attention I’d say it will rank above a few more recent days that I can recall,” Q teases with just a slight hint of real bitterness.  
  
               James flinches.  “Q…Artemis, I’m…I know I treated you like shit those last few weeks. You didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have left like that, but I was trying to keep you safe and I didn’t…I didn’t know how much I’d hate myself for it or how bad...”  
  
               Q shakes his head.  “You are a stupid man James Bond and you are damned lucky I love you.  Now, speaking of things that are going to hurt…we haven’t had sex in a long time and I’m just going to go ahead and assume that’s on the docket for tomorrow.  You know I like it rough but I don’t suppose you can come up with a suitable excuse to at least use some sort of lubricant?”  
  
               “I’ll come up with something.  It’s going to really mess with my head, but just make sure everything looks like it really fucking hurts okay?  I’ll try to come back tomorrow night but I can’t promise anything,” James says regretfully.     
  
               “I know.  I knew what I was getting myself into James.  But once we get out of this, and we will get out of it, promise me we can escape least for a few weeks.  We can go back to Skye, then take the car and just drive wherever we want.  Promise me that, and I can get through anything we need to do over the next few days.”  
  
                              “I promise.  Now, drink this so you have the strength to get through the next few days.”  James reaches over to grab the packet of protein shake he dropped and adds it to a bottle of water then shakes it up.  He hands it to Q and watches to make sure he drinks it all.  “When we get to Skye I’m paying Molly to bring you all your meals for a week.  You’ve lost too damn much weight.”  
  
               “I’d complain about that comment but sadly I have to agree with you.  The thought of her beef stew is actually just as likely to get me through tomorrow as the thought of sleeping naked with you for about 48 hours and then making up for far too many months of celibacy.”  He grins as he takes another few sips.  
  
               “That’s the spirit,” James says as he pulls a syringe out of his pocket.  “Antibiotic.  I don’t want any of your cuts to get infected.”  Q holds his arm out and lets James inject it and the absolute trust the gesture shows makes his chest hurt and his throat feel like it’s closing up.  His watch beeps an alarm.  “Shit, I’ve gotta go. Finish that.”  
  
               Q swallows the rest of the shake and hands the bottle back to James.  “Thank you.”  
  
               James leans down and kisses a pink welt on Q’s chest.  “Those words sound wrong just now.  For everything I’m about to do, I’m sorry.”  
  
               “I forgive you,” Q says sincerely, realizing that in a way this will be far worse for James than it will be for him.  
  
               James swallows hard then kisses Q one more time before reluctantly pulling out his phone and finding the picture he took of Q on the monitor.  “Okay, lay back down.”  Q does and James arranges him so he looks the same as he did before.  He opens his mouth to say something when his watch beeps again and he gives Q a stricken look.  
  
               “Go.  And James, don’t you dare go easy on me and fuck this up.  We both know I can take anything you can give.”  He gives James his best confident, ‘I dare you’ smile.  
  
               James keeps his voice and features under control by sheer force of will.  “Of course you can, love.  See you in the morning.”  He winks and blows Q a kiss before backing out of the door and shutting and locking it behind him.  He makes it three whole steps before he begins to shake and fifteen more before he collapses against a rusty iron pillar and slides to the ground, trying to breathe deeply and reign in a rare panic attack.  Which is just stupid, he tells himself, because he’s killed a dozen men and half that many women and then walked away whistling to have tea on more than one occasion.  He’s picked a hell of a time to develop those human emotions everyone likes to accuse him of lacking, that’s for sure.  Okay, he’ll allow himself the next five minutes to panic and then it has to end because the last thing he needs is for Q to think he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown.  So, five minutes and then he will be 007, cold-hearted killer again.  Five minutes.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wait was extra long for this chapter because it was difficult and emotionally draining to write so much angst and pain. I wanted to challenge myself to see if I could write something dark, and I discovered definitely can- but after this it is back to my regularly scheduled fluff. I promise I will fix them and the next chapter will have ridiculous amounts of fluff and aftercare, but for now, to quote Sarah McLachlan, “Hold onto yourself for this is gonna hurt like hell.” My lovely editor Snogandagrope called it “a harrowing read,” and it definitely is. I would suggest reading it with your favorite comfort food at hand and a favorite fluff fic open in another tab to read when you’re done!  
> In case you are one of those people who doesn’t pay attention to tags, I’m adding a warning here. This contains descriptions of torture and what I’m going to call simulated rape, so if that is going to set off your triggers or unduly traumatize you in any way, please avoid this chapter. I don’t want any comments yelling at me for this being too disturbing. You have officially been warned. I did try to throw in as much comfort as possible, but it’s not much for now.
> 
> Edit: A million thanks to Snogandagrope for a crazy fast and insightful last-minute edit session! She is a goddess of editing! This is so much better, the first hundred or so of you who read it may want to do it again now : )

              Q has no idea what time it is when he startles awake to the sound of the door slamming open.  He looks up, thankful he decided to use contacts he can sleep in because his eyes are dry and bleary but at least he can still see.  What he sees makes him blink in confusion.  James is striding towards him with a tray and from this angle all he can see is a vase with a single red rose in it.  James sets the tray down and Q can see it’s filled with a variety of breakfast foods.  James looks down at him and the dark glee in his smile makes Q shiver.  “What is this?”  
  
              “It’s breakfast, darling.  I do need you to keep up your strength. It’s going to be quite a long day for you I’m afraid.”  James drags Q up by the chain and over to sit in the chair again then deftly cuffs Q’s ankles and wrists before he’s coherent enough to really struggle.  Then he pulls a chair up directly in front of Q so that their knees are brushing before reaching down to lift the tray into his own lap.  “Now then, why don’t we start with the scrambled eggs.”  He lifts a forkful up to Q’s lips and waits.  
  
              Q pulls his head back and eyes the food suspiciously.  “Why would I eat that?  It’s probably drugged.  Or you’re trying to lull me into a false sense of security or induce Stalkholm Syndrome.”  
  
              “Come now Q, be logical.  l if I was going to drug you there are far more efficient ways.  Why would I want to miss out on the chance to see the fear in your eyes when you knew what I was injecting you with?  And if you know I’m trying to mess with your mind then it’s not going to work, is it?  So really, what do you have to gain by choosing to spend the day both hungry and in pain?”  
   
    “I…I don’t know, but I don’t trust you.”  Q has a hard time saying it even though it’s an act, since nothing could be farther from the truth.  
  


James’ voice has a disturbingly unaffected, slightly lilting quality to it as he replies.  “No?  You really should start.  It would help this situation rather a lot if you just trusted that I will do what I say I will.  For example, I am going to feed you breakfast and then I’m going to ask you to do something.  If you don’t, I’m going to go over to that table, pick up those sharp sticks, and shove them under your fingernails.  But if you do what I want, I won’t hurt you.  Now, open up.”

 

Q looks murderous, but he opens his mouth and lets James feed him the bite of eggs.  He continues to glare as James, humming a random tune, feeds him the plate of food then holds a glass of orange juice up for him to drink.  When he’s finished James sets the tray on the floor then leans back in his chair and fixes Q with an expectant look.  Q sighs.  “Can we just skip the part where you ask and I say no and move on to the stick thing?  We both know I’m not going to do anything Smith wants.”

 

“I don’t know that.  In fact, I have supreme confidence in my ability to make you do exactly as I ask.”  He leans forward and wraps his hands around the back of Q’s neck so that Q is forced to look at him.  “With anyone else it’s possible you would be right about resisting, but with me...I know you, Q.  I know what gives you pleasure, so I know how to cause you the most pain.  I know your fears, what you hate and what you hold dear.”  He presses his lips against Q’s roughly for a few seconds, ignoring Q’s useless struggling to turn away and takes a moment to lean forward to bite Q’s ear roughly, and while Q tries to push him off he whispers, “just think about going back to Skye and Molly’s stew,” then pulls back to say aloud, “I will break you, lovely, you can trust me on that.”  

 

When James pulls away and gets up to walk over to the table Q swallows hard and tries to repress the genuine fear that is already manifesting itself in his sweaty palms and rapidly beating heart.  James is right; if he wanted to he really could break him, and even though he knows James is acting it’s a terrifying thought.  And as much as he assured James he could take anything, he’s still afraid of how much this is going to hurt.

 

James picks up the thin wooden dowels and uses the moment his back is to the camera to take a steadying breath.  He reminds himself that he has been through far worse than what he’s about to do to Q; at least this chair has a bottom on it, he thinks ruefully. Q will heal from this.  James will personally see to that, and do all he can to make this experience the least horrible as possible.  He stalks back over to Q, his face a mask of sadistic glee even as he’s cringing inwardly.  “So Q, how do you feel about giving Smith access to the navy’s files on its ballistic missile subs?”

 

“I figured that would be what he wanted, and I feel that Smith can go to hell.”  

 

“Wrong answer,” James replies lightly, seating himself back into the chair opposite Q and wrapping the fingers of his left hand firmly around Q’s thumb.  

 

Q tries futilely to pull his hand away, not even having to fake the struggle since his natural instinct is to escape the impending pain.  He’s in the process of deciding if he should try to keep quiet or not when the sharp wood slices into the sensitive skin beneath his nail.  For a second it’s as if his nerves are too shocked to register the sensation and he sucks in a surprised breath, then the pain hits and he has the slightly hysterical thought that there is no way such a small thing should hurt this damn much.  He makes a strangled sort of whimper and grits his teeth, then gives into the urge to cry out when James moves the stick back and forth slowly and a few drops of blood darken the end of his nail.  “You just go ahead and enjoy yourself, because I won’t be doing you any favors you traitorous piece of shit,” Q spits out.     

 

   “Trust me, I am,” James replies.  Now that Q is bleeding he pulls the stick back a few millimeters so that it won’t hurt much as he continues to swivel the sharp end around beneath Q’s nail.  “You’ll notice I’m starting with your left hand, so if you change your mind about helping you can avoid and damage to your dominant hand.”  He pulls the stick out and moves over to Q’s pointer finger, stopping just before it cuts into the skin.  

 

“Go fuck yourself, Bond,” Q growls.

 

“Hmm, I think it’s you I’ll be fucking if you don’t come to your senses soon.  Actually, now that I think about it, go ahead and indulge your stubborn streak.”  He licks his lips in a rudely seductive manner then pushes the sharp wood deeper and Q’s eyes begin to water as the blood wells up then runs down the tip of his finger onto the floor.  The red splashes make him feel sick.  “No response?  I’ll just continue then, and you let me know when you’ve had enough.”

 

Even though James stops causing him too much pain once he makes each finger bleed, by the time he’s finished with the fingers on Q’s right hand Q already feels drunk on adrenaline and pain and the added stress of crying out as if it really does hurt like hell every second.  He’s sweating and not even having to fake the faint trembling of his limbs.  

 

James sits back in his chair and studies Q.  “So about that access, what do you think?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hmm, well I suppose reducing you to one word answers is progress at least.  Now, I think we’ll--”  The sound of the door slamming into the wall as it opens cuts him off.

 

“Aw, you started without me James!”  Mason struts in, looking exactly like the cocky gangster he is as he comes up to stand next to Q’s chair.

 

James glances down at his watch.  “It’s half nine, and not my fault you’re a lazy son of a bitch.”  

 

Mason just shrugs.  “So, is he gonna do what Smith wants?”

 

“Oh he will, he’s just not properly convinced yet.  And you’re still not helping convince him, so back off or leave.”

 

Mason shoots James a dirty look then leaves, but comes back in dragging a chair a few moments later.  He sets it up against the wall beneath the camera and leans back, crossing his legs like he’s settling in to watch a movie.  “Smith said I get to make sure you’re doing your job, so if you go easy on him I’ll step in. I’ll be staying right here.”

 

James clenches his jaw and reminds himself that he still can’t kill Mason, but when he does it’s going to be one of his more satisfying moments.  “So stay there.  Just stay silent as well.”  He turns back to Q.  “Now then, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?  Oh yes.”  He stands up and goes to pick up the cuffs on the end of the long chain then fixes them around Q’s wrists again.  He frees Q’s ankles then asks, “Do you want to walk or should I drag you?”

 

Q looks like he wishes he could tear James apart, but he gets up and follows James over to stand on the same blood-spattered cement as last night as James pulls the chain until his arms are straining above his head again.  He’s more frightened than he’d like to admit as he watches James walk over to the table and pick up a slender wooden cane because the look James fixes him with is pure predatory killer, which apparently is no longer hot when directed at him and not a deserving target.  James bends the cane to demonstrate its slight flexibility then brings it down hard against the back of a chair and the loud crack actually makes Q jump.

 

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere,” James declares, smiling at Q’s obvious nervousness.  “Just remember, anytime you want me to stop all you have to do is tell me you’ll do what Smith wants.”  He prowls his way over to Q then runs the tip of the cane down his sweat-slicked chest, turning carefully away from the camera so he can let his expression communicate how much he regrets having to do this.  “Why put yourself through this?”  

 

Q responds by spitting in James’ face.

 

James wipes it off casually.  “Foolish boy,” he says in a dark voice before bringing the cane down hard just above Q’s right knee.  

 

Q spasms and cries out, instinctively picking his leg up to take the weight off of it only to have James slash the cane across the skin above his left knee as well.  The sound he makes is strangled and nearly inhuman and Q knows he isn’t going to get through this without giving his mind something else to focus on, and given the slightly striken look in James’ eyes he isn’t either.  “White pawn to e4” he grits out.  

 

James cocks his head questioningly then orders himself not to flinch as he strikes Q’s thigh.  

 

Q whimpers then says, “Black pawn to c5.”

 

James smiles as he realizes what Q is doing.  “Well, at least it’s more original than listing the decimals of pi.  Tell you what, I’ll even play against you.  If you win I’ll give you a short break.  If I win...you lose that last bit of clothing, and we move this show right along.  Deal?”

 

“As if I’ve got a choice,” Q replies in a venomous voice.

 

“You wound me Q, of course you have a choice.  You could refuse to play at all and just take your beating in the more traditional manner.”  James slaps the cane against his palm and raises an eyebrow before smacking Q across the lower stomach.

 

“Knight to f3,” Q growls, trying to maintain his composure as as heat sears across his abdomen.

 

“Pawn to e6,” James says after a brief moment of consideration.  When Q doesn’t answer immediately he slashes the cane down across Q’s side, catching his lower ribs.  

 

“Fuck!”  Q sways in his bonds and the first tear slides down his cheek as he jerks away from the sting.  

 

“You’re taking too long,” James accuses, narrowing his eyes.

 

Mason sits forward and looks at them in confusion.  “What’s that you’re doing then?”  he asks suspiciously.

 

“It’s called chess you uncultured Neanderthal,” James snaps at him.  “Now shut the fuck up.”

 

“Pawn to d4,” Q manages despite gritting his teeth against the pain.

 

“Pawn to d4, capture pawn.  Oops, looks like you aren’t thinking as clearly as usual.”  James steps to the side and brings the cane down in a singing arc against Q’s calf.

 

Q yelps.  “Knight to d4, capture pawn,” he snaps, flashing James a triumphant grin.

 

James narrows his eyes and slinks around behind Q.  “Pawn to a5.”  He brings the cane down precisely between two existing welts from the whip, deciding it might be more difficult to heal from repeated injuries to the same area even though it’s going to leave more damaged surface area.  

 

“Bishop to d3” Q whimpers as tears begin to run unchecked down his cheeks.  The mental exercise is helping, but bloody fucking hell this is agony.  

 

  James considers his move for a moment before deciding, “Knight to f6.”  He selects another flawless strip of skin and mars it with another pink stripe and hates himself.  The only thing keeping him from just taking Q and running is the fact that they would have to keep running,  and he needs a safe place to bring Q after this so that he can heal.  For a few months at minimum.  If M has a problem with that James will just bloody well stay retired.

 

Q sucks in a sharp breath and groans before replying, “Castle kingside rook.”

 

“Interesting choice.  Hmmm...king to c7.”  Fighting his instincts, James pulls his hand back to deliver another stinging blow.

 

By the time Q manages, “King to f3, checkmate,” he is in a barely coherent haze of agony.  His wrists and shoulders have gone beyond aching to screaming and his skin feels like one solid red welt.  He’s certain that even when James releases him from the torture of this position there is no way he will be able to rest that won’t involve all of his weight pressing down on raw flesh.

 

“Impressive game, Q.  I suppose you’ve earned your rest, though I don’t think you’ll be enjoying it much.”  He runs a hand down Q’s striped back then goes to release the chain.  He lowers Q to the floor then re-secures the bar.  “Now, you just lie there and think about how much more pain you will avoid by doing what I ask.”  He turns and walks towards the door.  “Out Mason,” he orders, stopping so Mason can leave ahead of him.  Mason shoots him a dirty look but complies.  Once they are outside James shuts the door.

 

“You’re actually going to give him the break?” Mason asks incredulously.

 

“Of course I am.  Have you been paying attention at all?  It’s vital he knows I’m going to do what I say I will.  God only knows what would happen if you were in charge,” he says with obvious disdain.

 

“Maybe I’d have what Smith wants by now!  I think you’re going easy on him,” Mason accuses.  

 

“I don’t give a shit what you think.  Just stay the hell out of that room for the next hour or I’ll show you exactly what my ‘going easy’ feels like.”  Mason shoots him a death glare then stomps off.  James grits his teeth then goes to check in with Oscar and find out what Smith thinks of his interrogation technique.

 

Oscar seems to have developed and even bigger case of nerves where James is concerned, because he refuses to do more than glance up from the monitor and edges towards the back of his chair as he gives James the report.  “Smith says he’s amused, but he’s becoming less so the longer this drags out.  If you’re giving him an hour when you go back in it will be half twelve, and he wants his access by four or he will make us regret it when he arrives.  I think ah, well I think you’d better not piss him off by failing because I don’t feel like paying for your fuck up.”  He pokes at the keys in agitation as he’s afraid James is going to hit him.  

 

James rubs his eyes.  “Right.  Well tell him he’ll have his damn access by then.”  He leaves and goes to wait outside the door to the interrogation room because he isn’t taking any chances where Mason is concerned.  The next forty-five minutes feel like as many hours.  Every time he closes his eyes all he can picture is Q’s injured skin and his tear-filled eyes and his mind is replaying Q’s cries on an endless loop.  It’s the worst form of torture he’s ever experienced and that is truly saying something.  

 

Time isn’t passing any faster for Q.  He’s opted for lying on his right side since it seems to be the least injured, but there is still an uncomfortable amount of lacerated skin pressed against his wrinkled pile of clothing which James kindly left behind.  He wishes he could just pass out for a while but he hasn't felt this awake in months.  His nerve endings feel like exposed wires delivering constant shocks to his system and even though he knows he agreed to this and James is only acting, his psyche is still scrambling to rectify his emotions regarding the man he loves and the seeming stranger currently causing him all of this pain.  As the minutes tick by he can’t help but becoming increasingly tense because he isn’t sure just how much more suffering he will have to endure in the next few hours before he gives Smith the access he’s asking for.  He wants to wait as long as possible to minimize the time Smith will have to examine the system before he arrives, but he’s honestly not certain how much more his body, in its current weakened state, can handle.  

 

At 12:30 James struggles to his feet, steels himself to endure the next few hours, then enters the room.  His stomach lurches at the sight of Q lying on his side, looking weak and nothing like one of the few men who can take him in a fight.  Q's disturbingly vacant eyes are on him as he strides over and stands over him.  "So, are you ready to do what Smith wants?"

 

Q shakes his head but remains silent.

 

"Not yet? Well, back to the fun then."  James walks over to the table and grabs a set of metal handcuffs then goes and releases the long end of the chain.  He bends down and scoops Q up, ignoring his faint struggling as James carries him over to the bench and lays him down on it.  Q's feet instinctively drop down to rest on the floor in a search for stability and James leans down to quickly pull his ankles together and cuff them.  He leaves the chain attached to Q's wrists alone and allows Q to rest his hands on his stomach.  Mason chooses that moment to wander back in.

 

"So, what's next?" He asks as he sits back down in his chair against the wall.  

 

James grits his teeth when Mason takes a sip of the beer he came in with, but supposes he should be glad it's not popcorn because James really would have to kill him then.  James waves his hand towards the nearby buckets of water.  "Basket weaving. What the fuck does it look like?"

 

"I heard waterboarding isn't even torture," Mason says in a superior tone.

 

"Would you like to test that theory?" James growls taking a threatening step towards Mason.

 

Mason holds his hands up.  "Hey, no, you just do your thing man."

 

"Pity.  Let me know if you change your mind."  He gives Mason an evil look then turns back to Q.   "This won't kill you, but try telling that to your brain when it's convinced you're drowning.  Anytime you decide you're ready to give in, just let me know."  

 

"My answer is still fuck you," Q spits out, trying to sound more confident than he feels.  

 

"Actually, if this doesn't convince you there is definitely some fucking in your near future...you'll just be on the less pleasant end of it.  So do add that into your list of reasons you should do what I want."  James goes over to grab a bucket of water and a towel then comes back to kneel next to Q's head.  He wets the towel and drapes it over Q's face, then slides his left palm beneath Q's neck to force his head to tilt back.  Q is breathing hard, skin pulling tightly over his too-visible ribs and James can feel the coiled tension in the muscles of his neck.  As he reaches for the bucket he lets his little finger tap out "Skye" against Q's neck.  He doesn't dare write more, but he thinks Q will get it. There will be an 'after this' for them.  

 

Q relaxes fractionally at the promise and reminds himself that this is all a game.  James doesn't want to hurt him.  He knows that fourteen seconds is the longest most people can make it before mindless panic sets in, but he hopes knowing that will help. Maybe if he counts or- the thought is abruptly cut off by the sudden sensation of being trapped beneath a waterfall.  His bound arms come up instinctively to try push James away, but he just hits what must be James' elbow and he doesn't have the strength or leverage to move it.  He wants to stay calm, but the second water begins flowing up his nose he can't help his body's instinct to choke and gasp for breath and then the water pours down his throat and he can't breathe and the result is instant and crippling terror.  The only coherent thought he can form is STOP, over and over until James finally relents.  

 

James pulls the towel away from Q's mouth and asks, "change your mind yet? That was all of eight seconds, in case you were wondering."

 

Q sucks in a ragged breath.  "Sorry, but no."

 

"Let's try for ten seconds then, shall we? "  James covers Q's mouth and repeats the process, trying to quell his own impending breakdown over the way Q is writhing and shaking and making horrible choked noises.  But he forces himself to keep going, stroking Q's neck almost imperceptibly and trying to convince himself he has to do this, but deep down he knows there is always a choice and he's afraid he's making the wrong one.  

 

After only six rounds Q feels like he is holding onto his sanity by a very slender thread.  He's never dreaded anything more than he does the thought of James beginning again, and when James asks him again if he's ready to cooperate he very nearly says yes.  Some part of his mind still remembers that he has a plan though, and his baser instincts are currently at the forefront so he vaguely remembers it has something to do with sex, which sounds infinitely preferable to this, so he shakes his head no.

 

James can tell Q is about to lose it, so he takes the towel off and stands, shaking his head and making a tsking sound.  "Well, now you've had a preview of what's to come. Next time I won't stop until you pass out or give in, but if I keep going now l'll miss out on my chance to fuck you one last time.  He uncuffs Q's ankles then picks him up again, setting Q down so he is facing the back of the bolted-down chair.  Then he takes off the leather cuffs and re-attaches each wrist to the metal cuffs on the chair arms so Q is leaning over the back of the chair and holding onto the arms for support.  James is worried by how little he struggles, especially since the defeated attitude doesn't feel entirely like an act.  

 

"Sure I can't get in on the action?" Mason calls in a lewd voice.

 

"Sorry, I'm just not into you like that. Though I'm flattered you want a threesome," James replies in a sarcastic voice.  

 

"What?! That's not, I didn't...fuck you, James," Mason sputters.

 

"Sorry, your prick isn't getting anywhere near my ass.  Also, you realize it's more than a bit gay, you wanting to watch me have sex with a man, right?"  

 

Mason gapes at him and his face turns an angry red.  He trips over his words for a few moments before he finally spits out,  “You’re more than a little bit gay!”

 

James rolls his eyes and leans forward to reach his hands around Q’s chest and begins playing lightly with his nipples. Q makes a disgusted noise and shifts forward but he can’t really get much farther away.  “You do realize that stating a fact is not actually an insult, don’t you?”  He fixes Mason with a withering, condescending gaze.  “Actually, since I’ve already had Q here I think I’ll amuse myself looking at you while I fuck him and imagining it’s your tight virgin ass I’m taking instead.”  

 

“You’re one sick fuck James,” Mason accuses as he stands and edges towards the door.  “I’ll be watching on the monitor, so don’t get any smart ideas.”  

 

“Enjoy your the new wank material, I’m sure it’s rare for you to get the chance to watch porn you’ve never seen before!”  James calls to Mason’s rapidly retreating form.  

 

“Thank you,” Q murmurs in a barely audible voice, careful not to move his lips.

 

“Much better.  I prefer my exhibitionism to be slightly more impersonal.”  He flashes a salute towards the camera, not particularly caring if it pisses Smith off.  “Now, I suppose you’re envisioning a hard fast fuck, one you can convince yourself you hate as much as you hate me so you’ll get over it faster.”  He wraps his arms around Q’s waist and kisses the back of his neck.  Q tenses visibly. “I have a better idea.”  James slides his left hand down Q’s chest and fondles his soft cock through the thin material.

 

Q jerks his hips back instantly.  “No.  No no no.”  He shakes his head and pulls futilely against the cuffs.  “Just fuck me if you’re going to,” he pleads, desperation coloring his voice.  

 

“Oh I will.  I definitely will.  But not until your traitorous body is begging for it even though your mind is screaming ‘rape.’”  With his free hand he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tube of lubricant, flips the top and squeezes some onto his fingers.  He lets the tube drop then slides his hand beneath the waistband and down the crack of Q’s ass, pausing to rub his slicked fingers back and forth gently, seductively, over Q’s clenching hole.  

 

Q grits his teeth and whimpers in what he hopes sounds like fear, forcing himself to twist his hips in an attempt to get away when all he wants to do is push back and beg James to keep going because everything hurts and he’s miserable and all he wants is for James to be inside of him making it all better.  

 

“Ah ah ah, there’s no escaping so you might as well just give in,” he purrs into Q’s ear before biting the sensitive lobe.  “You know you want to.”

 

Q jerks his head away and snaps his hips to the other side.  “I don’t.  No.  Stop, just stop, please!”

 

James takes his hand away from Q’s hardening cock and wraps it firmly around Q’s hip to hold him in place, dismayed at how he can actually get his fingers around the curve of bone.  “Not unless you’re going to do what I want.”

 

Q’s body goes suddenly pliant even as he grips the arms of the chair hard enough that his knuckles go white.  “I can’t,” he says in a broken voice.  

 

“You mean you won’t.  Why protect the people at MI6 who are only going to screw you over in the end?  At least when I’m about to fuck you I’m honest about it,” James states as he grabs the sweat-damp material of Q’s pants and slides them to the floor, leaving Q naked and shivering despite the heat.  He moves his left hand around to stroke lightly at Q’s cock, teasing it to full hardness as he rubs circles around Q’s hole then slowly, gently slides one finger in and brushes it over Q’s prostate.  

 

Q spasms and lets his head hang down and begins a litany of tear-filled pleading: “stop,” “no,” “I hate you I hate you,” he whimpers as James preps him as lovingly as he ever has so Q knows James doesn’t believe a word of it.  

 

“Look at you, you little slut.  Begging for it from the man who just beat the shit out of you.  You’re an even bigger masochist than I suspected.  Now why don’t you keep telling me to stop, it amuses me how much your body knows you’re lying.”  He undoes his trousers and pushes them to the ground along with his pants and is seized by the urge to lick Q open further but he resists.  He grabs the bottle of lube and slicks up both hands then reaches around to squeeze Q’s cock and begin stroking it steadily as he does the same to his own.  

 

Q makes a choked sort of sound when he finally feels the head of James’ cock pressed up against his entrance because he can feel the heat of it directly against his skin and his hazy mind realizes James isn’t wearing a condom.  Which makes sense, because it’s doubtful the character he’s playing would bother, but Q still spares a moment to be pissed that something he’s wanted for so long has to happen like this.  He rapidly forgets all about being pissed as James grabs his hips and slams into him as deep as he can in one steady thrust.  It’s been a while so even with the prep he doesn’t have to fake the cry that escapes his mouth because yeah, that fucking hurts, but gods does it feel fucking amazing.  He very nearly forgets to look like he hates it as tiny specks of light dance across his vision, but catches himself and cries, “No! No, oh god, you fucking bastard!”

 

“That’s right my lovely, let me hear you,” James growls as he continues snapping his hips forward, taking Q hard and fast because as much as he would prefer their first time back  together and without any barriers- and fuck, it really does feel better without the condom- to last approximately five hours, he knows he can’t afford to look like he’s going easy on Q.  There’s also the fact that he is more than half sick over this entire situation and there is no way he can keep it up for long while he’s in a battle between savoring and reviling every moment of this.  It’s barely a few minutes later when he feels like he’s getting close.  Q has stopped resisting completely and is making devastating noises as he leans forward and his hips tilt up to meet James’ thrusts seemingly of their own accord, so James angles himself in a way he knows will drive Q crazy as he feels his own orgasm approaching.  

 

Q can feel James getting close and he is lost in a fog of pleasure while acting like he’s in anguish and he doesn’t think his mind has ever been so confused.  He is coherent enough to realize that if he doesn’t manage to finish by the time James does he may not be allowed to, so he focuses on what it will feel like when James comes inside of him for the first time and that’s enough to have him tensing and shooting onto the back of the chair.

 

As soon as he feels Q tighten around him with his release James groans and bites Q’s shoulder hard as he pushes into him one last time.  The thought that he is filling Q’s body rather than a condom is much hotter than it should be considering the circumstance, but he can’t help the fact that his mind is still a bit of an insensitive bastard.  He allows himself a few seconds to recover then pulls out and runs a possessive hand down Q's back then pats his ass in the manner he might a horse after dismounting.  “I knew you wanted it,” James comments in a lewd voice as he pulls his trousers back up and tucks himself away.  

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Q grits out, concentrating on keeping his footing because his legs really want to give out on him.  

 

James walks around to Q’s side and strokes a finger down his damp cheek.  “Look at you trying to act all brave.  It’s commendable, really.  Misguided, but commendable.”  He uncuffs Q’s wrists then pulls Q back against his chest the second he tries to get away.  “Now now, none of that.  Save your energy, pet.”  He leans down to murmur into Q’s ear.  “Now here’s what’s going to happen.  You’re going to give Smith what he wants, or I’m going to strap you to that bench and pour water over your face until I need to give you CPR then when I revive you I’m going to do it again.  If you still resist I’m going to fuck you again, and this time I won’t be so nice.”  He picks Q up and carries him over to the bench then lays him across it, holding him down with a firm hand on his chest.  “So...what will it be?”

 

Q goes limp and says in a defeated voice, “Bring me a computer.”

 

“That’s my boy.”  James turns to look at the camera.  “You heard the man Oscar, bring us a computer.”  He picks Q back up and deposits him in the chair, then goes to grab his briefs and slides them back on, taking a moment to run his fingers gently along Q’s lower back before cuffing Q’s ankles.  He has never wanted to pull Q into his arms and comfort him more than right now.  “Comfy?”

 

Q wants to somehow tell James he’s okay, he isn’t angry with him, but he can’t so he reluctantly schools his features into a look of unadulterated loathing,  Before he has a chance to speak Mason comes back into the room carrying a laptop.  

 

“Ah Mason, enjoy your little wank session?” James asks in a cruel voice as he takes the laptop and places it in Q’s lap.

 

“You just have your fun while you can James, because someday you’ll get yours,” Mason growls before stalking over to his chair and glaring at them, arms crossed.  

 

James ignores him.  “Q, do your thing.”

 

Q opens the internet browser then stares into the webcam.  “So, are you enjoying the show Smith?” he asks in a hateful voice.  

 

A chat window opens up.  Smith writes: _Quite.  You’re even prettier close up.  So, do you have something for me?_

 

“Aside from a deep desire to watch you die slowly and painfully?”

 

Smith replies: _Come now Artemis, don’t be so un-original.  I had such high hopes regarding you.  Lovely, we have have the small talk completed.  Now get me a copy of the Navy’s files on its ballistic nuclear submarines.  And access to its internal system.  Please.  See, I can be polite._

 

Q freezes up for a moment, thrown by the use of his name before he answers.  “I’ll get you the copy, but if you want live access to the system you’re going to have to come get it personally.  Please.  Oh look, I can be polite as well,” Q drawls, his voice laced with acid.

 

_I’d refuse, but I’m rather looking forward to meeting you in person.  I wonder, is your skin as soft as it looks?  The part that’s still un-marked, I mean.  It appears James got a bit...carried away.  But don’t worry, I’ll take ever such good care of you from now on.   I’ll get you a diamond-studded collar and everything._

 

“I’d rather die,” Q spits as he brings up the Navy’s site and types in the password that triggers the dummy system to come online.  He’s fairly certain Smith’s computer is registering his keystrokes so he could access the system now if he wants without Q giving it to him, but Q is banking on the fact that Smith will still want to show up just to play the game of convincing Q to give it to him.      

 

_Oh no my sweet, you’ll have a long and beautiful life with me once I get you trained in properly.  I’ll make you love me, just you wait._

 

“We’ll see about that,” Q states, skin crawling at the very idea. He downloads a copy of the files Smith wants and saves them in a folder on the desktop before closing out of the system.

 

_Yes, we will.  Thank you, my lovely boy.  I do so look forward to meeting you tomorrow._

 

The chat window disappears, and since Smith didn’t ask him to send the file anywhere he knows the computers are definitely linked.  He wishes he had time to explore because he knows Smith wouldn’t let valuable information like this travel through cyberspace where anyone else could get ahold of it, which means there must be a truly impressive security system in place.

 

James closes the laptop and tosses it to Mason, who catches it reflexively.  “Nothing more to see here, you just run along and find a way to be useful.”  Mason goes, muttering vague promises of violence on his way out the door.  James ignores him.  “So, looks like you’ve earned a break for finally exercising some sense.  I’ll be right back.”  

 

Q turns his head away from James in what he hopes comes off as a deliberate snub.  “Don’t do me any favors.”

 

James turns and stalks away, careful not to show how much the comment stings until he’s out the door.  He knows Q is acting, but that bitter tone sounded awfully real and his mind can’t help entertaining the possibility that even if he still loves him, Q might also hate him a little and that hurts more than any physical pain.  He grabs a few bottles of water and some leftover pizza since it’s the only food around, then goes to his room and selects a soft t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts before returning to Q.  He sets the items down then begins to uncuff Q’s ankles.  “I won’t hurt you anymore if you behave,” he promises once Q is free.  He goes over to the table and picks up the bottle of alcohol that is actually filled with a numbing, healing agent and Q remembers to flinch when he sees it.  “Well, maybe I’ll hurt you but I won’t damage you.  I can’t have you burning up from infection when Smith shows up.”  He begins to cover Q’s wounds with the liquid thoroughly as Q hisses in a show of discomfort.  “Okay, up,” James orders once he’s done with the front side.  

 

Q stands unsteadily, moving over to grip the back of the chair for support and angling his back away from  the camera.  When James takes advantage of the angle to smooth his fingers gently over Q’s skin and trace, ‘soon love,’ across his shoulders he doesn’t even have to fake blinking back tears because the small kindness makes him ache for more.  He has never wanted anything more than to have James wrap his arms around him and just hold him in a soft bed for a week. Yes, soon, he promises himself.

 

James is reluctant to stop touching Q, but he knows he can’t take any longer so he leans down far enough in the act of running gauze over a welt on the back of Q’s thigh to place a single soft kiss on his lower back, out of sight of the camera, before stepping away.  He walks around to face Q again and gestures towards the pile of things.  “Feel free to put on some clean clothes, and do make sure you eat and drink.  I don’t want Smith to think I’m not taking good care of his new toy.  See you in the morning!”  His back is to the camera so he doesn’t bother hiding the longing in his eyes before he turns and walks out the door.  

 

James locks Q in and takes a steadying breath before going to check in with Oscar.  Oscar says Smith will be out of  communication for a while, but he will send a van to pick them up at 8am.  He then reminds James that he is scheduled to make a delivery in two hours to one of their more skittish clients who refuses to come to the warehouse.  James grits his teeth, wanting to refuse but knowing he can’t do anything to arouse suspicion.  He goes to put the order together then adds an extra padlock to Q’s door because he doesn’t trust Mason, who seems to have gone out for a sulk and likely a few beers and the last thing James wants is for him to come back drunk and find Q unguarded.  Although even in his current state James is fairly certain that Q could take Mason, so he tries not to worry.  It doesn’t work.  He presses his palm to the door for a moment then reluctantly leaves.

 

The sound of banging coming from the other side of the door an indeterminate amount of time later shocks Q out of a fitful sleep.  His mind scrambles to catch up with reality for a confusing few moments, but he’s still running on adrenaline so it doesn’t take long.  He knows it’s not James, and Smith wouldn’t be so crude, so that only leaves Mason and it isn’t hard to imagine what he’s after given what Q has seen of him.  He sighs and wraps his hand around the handle of the knife James so conveniently left behind then pushes up into a sitting position.  He really feels as if he’s dealt with enough shit in the last twenty-four hours and Mason has picked the wrong time to fuck with him because he is a thousand percent done.  

 

Mason finally gets the door open and stumbles in, clearly drunk as he fixes Q with an angry sort of leer and points a gun in his general direction.  “Thinks he can have you all to himself does he?  Thinks he’s in charge here.  I’ll show him how to get information out of a little cunt like you,” he growls as he stalks towards Q.

 

Q watches Mason, who falters when instead of fear he sees the clear and dangerous intent in Q’s eyes.  Q has never killed a man directly, but in this moment he’s more than willing to entertain the idea.  He eyes the gun disdainfully.  “Do you have any idea what Smith will do to you if you kill me?  That’s not even a proper threat; you’d never dare to shoot me.  A knife though...” Q pulls the knife out from behind his back and runs the fingers of his left hand over the flat of the blade as he cocks his head and grins.

 

“You don’t have the strength or training to use that thing,” Mason scoffs, continuing to advance.  “And who says I’m going to shoot you?  Maybe I’m just gonna fuck you with it.”

 

Right then, that’s enough, Q decides.  

 

James is only a few minutes away when his mobile rings.  “What, Oscar?” he demands, swearing that if it’s another assignment he’s finding a way to get out of it.  He hears a loud banging in the background.    

  
  


Oscar sounds panicked.  “You’d better hurry, Mason’s back and he’s smashing that new lock.  I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen and he’s drunk and crazy, you know how he gets!  Oh shit, he got in.  I’ll just-”

 

“You’ll fucking stop him, that’s what you’ll do!” James shouts into the phone, flooring the truck and careening around a corner.  

 

“He’s got a gun!  I can’t stop him!”

 

“Then you get a gun too and fucking shoot the bastard!  Smith will do worse than kill you if you let Mason ruin his prize, believe me,” James grits out, speeding through a red light.

 

“I didn’t sign up for this shit!  Kidnapping and torture and now murder?!  I just wanted to make some easy cash!  You know what, this is too fucked.  I’m outta here.”

 

“Oscar?  Oscar!” James screams into the phone, but the line is dead.  The engine in the piece of shit truck he’s driving complains loudly as he pushes it to its pathetic top speed and he thinks he would give his soul to be driving the Aston Martin because the next two minutes are excruciating.  He jumps out of the truck practically before it’s in park and the silence that greets him as he runs into the warehouse makes his stomach clench.  He tears across the concrete and into the interrogation room and rapidly takes in the scene.  His eyes find Q first, backed up against the far wall with his arms curled around his knees in a seated foetal position. He’s covered in blood but gripping the hunting knife, and James suspects it’s probably not his own.  Q is staring at Mason with wide, haunted eyes, probably because Mason is lying on the ground a few meters away and making a rather horrible strangled sort of noise while clawing at his bloody throat and chest like he’s drowning on dry land, which James supposes he basically is.  He smiles.

 

Q’s eyes flick up towards James and he makes sure he looks appropriately disturbed and sounds like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he begs, “Please just kill him, god, just make him stop!”  It is a mark of just how messed up his psyche is at the moment that he’s actually disturbingly fine with watching Mason slowly bleed out even though outwardly he acts like the broken version of himself he’s playing.  Though it must be said there are various definitions of broken, and his reaction to killing a man probably indicates he fits at least one of them.

 

James pulls out his gun and looks at the camera.  “Bill me.  I’d say he’s worth, oh...the price of a cheap bottle of whiskey.”  He points and shoots and Mason goes instantly still and silent.  James shakes his head in disgust.  “Christ, what a mess.  You’re not going to die too are you?  I think you’re worth more to Smith than I can afford.”  He stalks over to the chair and takes off a set of cuffs then uses them to bind Q’s ankles together, taking advantage of the angle to let his concern show.

 

“It’s not my blood,” Q states, still seemingly in a state of shock.

 

James nods.  “Don’t go anywhere.”  He gets up, grabs Mason’s legs and drags him out, leaving a  red path in his wake.  He doesn’t want to leave Q again, nor does he want to risk disposing of the body right now, so he just dumps it behind some boxes at the back of the warehouse and goes to check if Oscar really is gone.  He is, and so are all the computers.  James feels a rush of gratitude for Oscar’s stupidity at thinking he can survive both going AWOL and stealing from Smith at the same time.  He grabs a thick marker and scrawls a hasty note on a piece of paper then goes back to find Q.

 

Q looks up when James appears in the doorway.  He’s holding a note that reads: Oscar stole the computers.  Can Smith still see you?  Q glances over at the camera again, though he’s had plenty of time to examine it already.  “No, it’s a sort range camera I’m sure.  Smith probably wasn’t expecting his techie to do a runner.”  He holds out a hand towards James, not even caring how pathetic he must look.  “I think I’d like for you to be kissing me now.”

 

James doesn’t think he’s ever moved faster in his life and then he is lifting Q gently into his lap and he can’t help the embarrassing half-sob that gets lost somewhere in Q’s mouth because bloody ever loving hell that was a terrifying experience.  “Are you really okay?  It’s really  not your blood?” he asks with his lips still brushing Q’s.  

 

Q wraps his arms tighter around James before replying in kind.  “It’s all his.  Where’s your faith in me?  You know I can kick your ass anytime I want.  It was easy.”  He pulls away fractionally.  “Huh.  I killed a man.  That’s a first.”

 

“Technically I killed him, and he was a waste of air believe me.  You did the world a favor.”  

 

“I know, I just...you know what, I don’t want to talk about it right now.  I just want to pretend this is over and you’re not going to leave me again.  How long do you think we have before Smith sends someone to check on us?”

 

“I don’t know.  I’ll run deadbolt all the doors so we’ll hear them banging to get in.  I doubt it will be long though.  I’d love to let you change, but...”

 

Q sighs and wrinkles his nose in distaste.  “You wouldn’t care if I was covered in blood.  I know.  I’m going to take every anti-viral known to man when we’re free, but it’s not like clean clothes would change anything at this point.  You are giving me the longest bath in the history of ever to make up for this though.”  

 

“Done.  I’ll bring you fresh water to at least wash up in.  Be right back, I promise.”  He uncuffs Q, kisses him, then runs out so he can be back as soon as possible.  He locks the outer doors, grabs the blankets off his bed, a few bottles of water and a towel and trots back to Q with his awkward bundle.  

 

“See, this is why I do the shopping.  You’re brilliant with a gun but rubbish when it comes to organization,” Q points out with a smile as James drops a bottle on his way over and almost trips over the dragging blanket.  

 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you making fun of me,” James says in reply as he folds the blankets into a makeshift bed before going over to Q with a bottle of water and the towel.  He sits on the ground and gently cleans the blood off of Q’s face then slides the bloody shirt up and over his head.  “There’s no reason for you to wear this while it dries,” he comments with distaste and then tries to hide his self-loathing as he carefully runs the towel over Q’s welted and whip-marked chest.  

 

“Hey.”  Q touches a hand lightly to James’ chin and tilts it up so James is looking into his eyes.  “Stop hating yourself.  I forced you to do it by coming here, and I’ll heal.”

 

James snorts derisively.  “Do you have any idea how much you sound like a domestic abuse victim convinced he’s still in love with his abuser?  I hurt you, and not in a good way.  That’s never okay.”

 

“James.  This wasn’t real abuse.  There was no anger, no intent to harm.  Now what I did to you the night before you left...that was abuse.”  He looks down, clearly uncomfortable.  “I thought about it so often and the more I did the more I realized how wrong it was.  I know you didn’t leave because of it, but it can’t have helped you want to stay.”

 

James stops moving and stares at Q in shock.  “That’s not- you didn’t- I’ve never thought about it that way, I swear.”

 

“Well it still was.  I was so angry at you, and it wasn’t about mutual pleasure.  It was me wanting to hurt you because you were hurting me.  You weren’t talking to me anymore, and you just sulked and drank and snapped at me but that didn’t give me the right to hurt you like some abusive boyfriend.  You know as well as I do that’s not how D/S play should go.  There was nothing safe or sane about that night.”

 

James goes back to washing Q’s chest just to have something to distract him because even though he knows this is something they need to talk about he has always been colossally bad at this type of feelings-related conversation.  “You’re not an abusive boyfriend.  You’re an amazing, protective, loving boyfriend who has the misfortune of being with a selfish, non-communicative, ass of a double-oh agent.  I’m surprised you didn’t snap sooner.  I was awful to you, I know it and I’m sorry.  I felt so fucking useless and I took it out on you and that was just as wrong as you getting a bit rough with a riding crop.  Which I asked for and wanted at the time, by the way.”

 

“I really need to learn to say no to you more often,” Q gripes with a smile, feeling immensely relieved that James isn’t upset over that night and is actually talking to him.  

 

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” James replies, pulling Q into his lap so his side is pressed against James’ chest and kissing his temple.  

 

“Hmm, we’ll see.  Can we talk about serious stuff later?  I don’t have the mental capacity for it and I kind of just want to enjoy you holding me for as long as we’re allowed,” he admits, tucking his head into the crook of James’ neck.

 

“Whatever you need.  I’ve got you.”  James holds Q close and runs a soothing hand through his hair as he revels in the feeling of having Q in his arms and promises himself that when this is over he is never being apart from him for this long again.  

 

Q leans into James, putting zero effort into holding himself up because he knows he won’t be allowed to fall.  As much as he wants to just lose himself in the sensation of being wrapped up in James and pretend everything is fine, his mind won’t let him.  He finds himself thinking back to those awful months without James, and then about exactly why his whole body hurts, and the feeling of the knife sinking into resisting flesh, the sickly wet sound then the warm splash of blood.  And there’s still tomorrow to face with everything depending on his rather insane plan to work.  He’s grateful James hasn’t asked him for specifics because he knows if he tells the truth it won’t go over well.  He sighs and turns further into James, wraps his arms around the comforting strength and wills time to stop.  He doesn’t want to have to leave the haven of James’ arms.  He doesn’t want to face Smith.  He doesn’t want to die and he knows he very well could.

 

James prides himself on his ability to always know exactly what to do in a difficult situation, but now he has no idea.  He can't think of anything to say to make Q feel better and he can't take him to a doctor or heal him. All he can do is show Q that even with the way James has acted recently he still loves and wants him.  He tries to avoid shifting much to avoid hurting Q's various injuries and resorts to a scalp massage while pressing soft kisses into his hair.  He wants to ask so many things: How bad was it while they were apart?  How did Q manage to replace the agent?  What is his plan for Smith?  But he doesn't want to add any stress so he just cradles Q and aches with having him so close yet feeling like there's a distance between them that there isn't time to fix.  Q takes a shaky breath and tilts his head to kiss James' neck and James wants to tell him, "Yes, that feeling, exactly."  Sadness and need and regret and love without any sexual undertones but he stays silent because he doesn't think that's something that can be said.  

 

Q brushes his lips against James' neck again, leaves them parted so he can run his tongue along the slight rasp of stubble, sample the tang of sweat, breathe in the familiar scent of safety, of home.  He tells his mind to return to now, to this.  He makes a low sound somewhere between a whine and a hum, knows James will recognize it as a wordless request to be kissed since he's heard it countless times before.  James leans back and slides a hand down to run his thumb lightly over his cheekbone as their lips meet and it's almost too much, too tender for Q’s raw emotions and his eyes begin to sting with fresh tears but he doesn't want James to stop.  He doesn't stop, of course he doesn’t, but the kiss feels hesitant, cautious.  Q makes a frustrated noise and nips at James' lip.

 

James smiles against Q's mouth and stops kissing him like he's going to break and yes, this is better. Now it's about mutual reassurances and giving each other strength to make it through to the other side of this particular hell. They share breath and warmth and it isn't about foreplay, there is no end goal, and it feels like one of the most intimate things they’ve ever done.  He loses track of time and place and for a while there is nothing but the two of them, but of course it can’t last.  Well before he thinks someone should arrive there is a pounding at the outside door.  He curses reality and pulls away from Q reluctantly and feels like he should say something but he has no idea what.

 

“Go.  I’m okay now, I’ll be fine.  It’s almost over,” Q says with more confidence than he actually feels.  He slides off James’ lap and crawls the few meters over to the blankets then stretches out on them.  “I’m keeping these though, I don’t really care what Smith thinks.  It’s too late to matter anyways.”

 

“Tomorrow night you’ll be sleeping with me in a bed, even if it’s in medical,” James promises as he gets up.  The pounding on the door becomes more insistent and he begins plotting the creative death of whoever is on the other side of it as he gives Q one final kiss before he shuts him in and runs to open the door.

 

“I’m coming!”  He yells, then throws back the deadbolt and opens the door.  The man standing on the other side looks like...well, what James usually looks like.  Expensive bespoke suit, slight bulge of a concealed weapon, and a devil-may-care smile.  

 

“Ah, so you’re back.  I’m assuming that means our quartermaster is still alive or you would have fled as well.  Pathetic, that Oscar, wasn’t he?  Smith was ever so concerned when the feed cut out.  We missed the dramatic conclusion, though my money was on Q.  He’s a rather deceptively cunning little waif isn’t he?”  The man steps past James and begins looking around.  He spots the trail of blood and walks over to it, shaking his head.  “Mason’s I suppose?  Well, no great loss there.  Is Q any more injured than you left him?”

 

James trails after the man, trying to decide if this is actually Smith posing as an underling.  “No.  When I got here he was covered in blood and in shock but physically fine.  I cleaned him up a bit.  He’s still in there.”  He gestures towards the interrogation room.

 

“Wonderful.  I’ll just bring the van in then.”  The man walks over to the large doors and opens them then leaves and in a few moments he drives a nondescript black van inside.  He gets out, shuts the warehouse doors, pulls a cot out of the back of the van and carries it over to set it in front of Q’s door.  “I’ll be staying here just to make sure Smith’s prize is safe.  Feel free to do whatever you want, just be back here by 8am.”  The man lies back on the cot, pulls a butterfly knife out of his pocket and begins to play with it.  Apparently he isn’t going to introduce himself.

 

James just nods and walks over to his room at the back of the warehouse then sits on his blanket-free bed.  He still isn’t sure who the man is, but if he isn’t Smith he’s probably his second in command because he has an obvious aura of self-assured power and control that an expendable lacky wouldn’t possess.  Which means James can’t do anything stupid like kill him, at least until tomorrow when he finally finds out who Smith is.  He knows Q will be safe until morning since even though this man is irritating as hell he isn’t setting off James’ creep radar and obviously has no plans other than to keep Q in the room.  He lies back on his bed and knows that it’s going to be a very, very long night.  

 

When James leaves his room at 7:30 am the next morning he feels like hell.  He didn’t want to leave the range of hearing of the man guarding Q so he hasn’t showered or gone to find food and he suspects he may have been half-asleep for maybe an hour at the most.  He can’t wait for this to be over.

 

“James!” the mystery man exclaims when he sees him.  He’s drinking coffee from a local joint and how the hell did he get it?  James is certain he didn’t hear anyone come or go.  He holds a large paper cup for James to take, which he does.  The man looks infuriatingly well rested.   “Wonderful of you to be up and ready.  I just gave our friend a cup as well.  He looks rather worse for wear, but I’m sure Smith will have him fixed up and ready to work in no time.”

 

“Smith just told me what to get out of him, not how to get it,” James says defensively.

 

“Well, one does forget how crudely men like you operate.  No matter, he’s alive at least,” the man says brightly, as if he hasn’t just insulted James.  “Now, when the vans arrive you will ride with the Quartermaster and I in one.  There will be four decoys; one can’t be too careful these days.  I do hope you understand what an honor it is that you will be allowed to meet Smith.  Few men alive can say the same.”

 

“And should I expect to remain alive once I do?” James asks, digging his nails into his palms to keep from snapping the man’s neck.

 

“I’m sure I can’t say.  If you prove to be of value you stand a fair chance of seeing tomorrow.  Now, why don’t you run along and gather up the remaining supply?  The other vans will transport it.  No point in being wasteful.”  He smiles and makes a shooing motion as if he’s addressing a child.

 

James turns and goes before he does or says something stupid because the temptation to put the man in his place is very, very tempting.  James doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone who got as far under his skin as quickly as this smarmy git.  Half an hour later he has the drugs in a pile but if anything the busy work has made him even more pissed off than before.  At 8am sharp he hears the warehouse doors open and when he gets back to the interrogation room the man already has Q in handcuffs waiting as five identical white vans pull in.

 

“I’ll get this one situated, you go ahead and get in,” the man says as he indicates towards the passenger side of the nearest van.

 

James does, anxious that he didn’t even get a chance to make eye contact with Q.  The driver gets out of the van and into another, and a minute later the man he has come to call ‘dead man walking’ in his head gets in.

 

The man looks over at James as if they are going out for a companionable drive to the countryside.  “Best get comfortable.  It will be a bit of a drive,” he states as he presses a button on the dash and one of the more grating Elton John songs assaults James’ ears.

 

The man doesn’t speak for the entirely of the drive back to London.  James is shocked once he realizes where they are going, and even more so when they finally pull into the empty parking garage of a building that was under construction the last time James was here and still appears to be uncompleted.  He recognizes it because he could see it from the window in Mallory’s office and the sheer audacity of it is…extremely characteristic of Smith, actually.  A small part of his mind has a grudging respect for the ‘fuck you’ attitude it demonstrates.  A very, very small part.

 

“Surprised?”  The man asks as he pulls into the spot next to a lift.

 

“Impressed,” James corrects.

 

“You should be.  All those months searching and you could’ve sailed a paper airplane over to Smith’s current headquarters.  It makes everything so much more amusing, don’t you think?”  He winks at James then gets out of the van.

 

James follows, anxious to make sure Q is okay.  He can’t imagine all of that bumping around would be comfortable for him.  He is grateful the man’s back is facing him when he opens the doors to let Q out, because he definitely didn’t hide his look of surprise fast enough.  Instead of being cuffed and sitting on a metal floor Q is sitting on some sort of feather mattress that takes up the entire back of the van.  He has changed out of the bloody clothing and is wearing…James’ mind struggles for a definition and comes up with ‘street walker chic’.  Skin tight black leather trousers and what could only be described as a harness made of thick leather straps around his slender chest.  There is a meter-long chain attached to a ring in the front of a black leather collar studded with what does appear to be actual diamonds.  He looks impossibly vulnerable and devastatingly attractive.  James swallows hard.

 

“Excellent, you did change!” the man says, appearing completely unaffected as he takes the end of the chain and waves for Q to get out.  “Smith will be so terribly pleased.”

 

“Good for him,” Q snips, swinging his legs over to jump out of the van.  “I do hope he realizes that I charge extra for fetish accommodation.”

 

“And a sense of humor too!  Oh yes, you’ll do very nicely,” the man gushes as he turns and begins walking.

 

Q has a mere second to meet James’ eyes as he passes, and he tries to smile confidently but it’s rather difficult to look convincing while in this outfit.  He tries hard not to feel ashamed or vulnerable since he’s sure that’s what Smith wants, but as a tactic to throw him off balance he has to admit it’s rather effective.  However, along with their location it assures him that his plan has a high chance of success and the relief in that far exceeds his discomfort.  The man presses a button, the lift opens and they step inside.

 

“I saw you scoping the place out, very agent-like James.  Yes, we’re alone here if that’s what you’re wondering.  Just the three of us and Smith.  People overestimate the value of a large number of lackeys; more bodies usually just means…well, more bodies.  Intimacy.  That’s what’s missing from this business these days.”  He tsks and shakes his head as the doors open and he leads them out into a large open room.  Aside from the lift the rest of the walls are all made of glass so it’s obvious that at least in this room, the man is telling the truth about their being alone.  The man leads Q over to a single chair in the middle of the room and seats him in it then moves around to stand behind him and to the side.

 

James doesn’t know what to do with himself.  He’s vibrating with nervous tension, hand twitching towards the Walther in his jacket holster.  He moves to stand behind Q on the opposite side, mirroring the man’s position.  “Okay, so what now?”

 

The man casually pulls out his own gun, safety off, and points it at James’ head.  “Now the fun begins,” the man lilts as the lift dings and the doors swish open.

 

James’ world tilts sideways in that stomach-twisting way it does when something one has always believed to be true turns out to be false.  A middle-aged woman steps into the room.  She is wearing a plain taupe suit, hair of an indistinct brown pulled up into a simple twist, minimal makeup, neither slender nor overweight, tall nor short, ugly nor pretty.  Everything about her screams, ‘that’s right, look right past me, I’m no one special.’

 

“I knew it,” Q breathes in a low voice.

 

She strides towards them like the Queen through a crowd and James can almost see the adoring throng that certainly exists in her mind.  She smiles as she walks towards them and something about the slant of it makes James break out in an uncharacteristic cold sweat.

 

“That’s exactly the reaction I expected,” she states in a voice as unfeeling as a knife’s blade.  “Of course you would never have considered that I could be a woman, James.  But you my lovely…” she prowls up to Q and runs a finger up his neck to his chin, tilting it up towards her.  “You’re much more intelligent, aren’t you?”  Her eyes shift over to James.  “Not quite clever enough though.  Which has been a treat, really it has.  You can’t imagine how much I’ve loved watching the two of you pretending to be bitter exes.  I must say James, watching you mask how much you hated hurting him…well, it was more fun than I’ve had in ages.”  She watches James closely, seemingly delighted as the truth hits him.  “Oh yes, it was all quite pointless.  You could’ve fooled a man, but a woman…we’re more sensitive when it comes to these things.”  She runs a hand possessively down Q’s shoulder as she maintains eye contact with James.  “You love him terribly, don’t you?”  When James doesn’t answer she digs her long nails into one of the lightly scabbed whip marks and it begins bleeding again.  Q sucks in a pained breath.

 

“Yes,” James replies quickly, mind scrambling for a way out of this situation that won’t get at least one of them killed and coming up blank.  If he goes for his gun he knows Smith’s man will shoot him.  He doesn’t seem to be the bluffing type.

 

She shifts her gaze down to Q.  “And you, you must love him even more to willingly take that agent’s place while knowing what would happen, all just to get back to the man who ignored you completely for months.”

 

“I do.  He’s everything to me.”  Q chooses his words carefully, knowing this is a dangerous game he’s playing.  

 

“Such loyalty.  Or textbook masochism, but both are valuable qualities.”  She reaches down and takes the end of Q’s chain then wraps it around her wrist as if he’s an unruly dog.  “I think I’ll take both of you,” she says in the manner of one selecting meat at the deli.  “I can keep you in a glass room and watch you try to enact whatever clever plot you’ve come up with.  I must confess that’s the one thing I haven’t worked out, because if you’re here it’s because you have some brilliant plan to take me down, am I right?”  She tugs at the chain firmly, encouraging a response.

 

Q cocks his head and gives her a mysterious smile.  “Of course.  But do you really want me to spoil the game?”

 

She claps her hands in a parody of childish delight.  “You understand then?  It’s all a game to clever people like us, isn’t it?  Most people are so stupid it’s hardly a challenge, hardly any fun at all to take advantage of them.  But you...ah, you’ve been ever so much fun to play with.  It’s been a grand game of chess with the whole world as the board.”  Her eyes shift back to James.  “You like to play with him too, don’t you?”  She runs a finger over a long welt on Q’s chest, pressing hard and making Q squirm in discomfort.  “Is he as much fun in bed as he is in cyberspace?  I’ll bet he is.”  

 

          

James takes a nearly involuntary step towards Q then freezes with the jarring sound of a gun fired without a silencer.  A moment later the hot sting across the back of his neck registers and he moves a hand back to touch the area.  When he looks at it it’s covered in blood.  

 

“I didn’t miss,” the man comments in a lazy voice.  

 

Smith doesn’t even flinch.  “Hmm, appears you were right about using bulletproof glass.  Just mind you don’t kill him.  The calf next time I think, something crippling will be fine.  Now James, that wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

 

“He’s fun.  But if you think I’m going to let you find out for yourself you’re even more insane than I suspected,” he growls, clenching his fists in barely-repressed rage and considering whether a gunshot wound to his calf is worth the attempt at punching Smith in the face.  

 

“I do so love your possessive streak, it’s really going to add a special something to this experience.  Don’t worry, I’ll let you watch me play with him until he’s begging for it, loving it.”  She runs her hand through Q’s hair, watching for James’ reaction.  “Then you can watch him help me decide what to do with my shiny new nuclear sub.  And he’s going to help me because if he does, he gets to keep you.  You can still have a life together.  You can cuddle and kiss and have all the sex you want and plenty of free time to plot your revenge and I get my very own reality tv show.  Everybody wins.”

 

Q makes a dismissive sound and she looks down at him.  “You might get all of that, except for one thing.  You’ll never make me love it.  No matter what you do, how good you can make me feel, one kiss from him will erase you from my thoughts and you’ll be nothing to me again,” Q states in a taunting voice.  Please, he thinks, please, take the bait.  Here, now, while we’re still alone.

 

Smith narrows her eyes angrily and begins rolling her wrist, wrapping the chain around it to shorten it as she moves to straddle Q’s lap, her skirt riding up to expose the lacy tops of her stockings.  “Is that a challenge?” she asks in a seductive voice, wrapping her free hand around the back of Q’s neck and licking her lips.

 

“It’s a statement of fact,” Q counters, his hands moving to grip the edges of the chair as he presses back against her hand as if he’s nervous.

 

“We’ll just see about that,” she murmurs as she leans in to brush her cheek against Q’s softly, trailing her lips along his jaw on the way to suck lightly on his earlobe.

 

James watches, a feeling of helpless disgust making his stomach twist as she looks up at him and winks, the sensitive skin of Q’s ear caught between her teeth.  He wants to know what the fuck is Q playing at.  He’s not even trying to fight her off, in fact his entire demeanor is one of resisting yet tempted and that’s just impossible.  James’ pulse speeds up, rage and horror and a fair amount of possessive jealousy thrumming through his system and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to take this for much longer, especially once her mouth covers Q’s.  She licks at his lips, and at first Q makes a noise of refusal then the hand holding the chain moves lower into his lap and James can’t see what she’s doing but he can imagine it.  When Q finally whines and opens his mouth to let her in James understands the term ‘seeing red.’  Then everything happens very, very quickly.  

 

Q snakes his hands up to grip the back of Smith’s head and force her to deepen the kiss and there is a small cracking sound then Smith jerks and makes a shocked sort of noise before she begins to shriek and convulse.  At first the sound is muffled by Q’s mouth but then he shoves her backwards off of him and her cries echo horribly off of the glass walls.  Q only manages to stay seated for another few seconds before he makes a strangled noise of his own and collapses onto the floor to lie writhing next to her.  

 

James misses Q’s fall because he is too busy taking advantage of the momentary shock of Smith’s man, who is staring at the scene with a look of intense fearful horror and it dawns on James, just as he fires a bullet into the man’s calf, that he must have loved her.  The man grunts as his leg gives out and fires a bullet in James’ direction but James is no longer there.  He slams into the man’s side, knocking him to the ground and quickly relieving him of the weapon before shooting him in the other calf then slamming the butt of the gun into his temple.  James doesn’t even waste the time to see if the man is out cold before he is up and scrambling over to Q, ignoring Smith’s jerking and wheezing as her body goes through its final paroxysms before death.

 

Q also seems to be experiencing some sort of seizure, though unlike Smith he doesn’t look quite so close to death but he looks bad enough for James to panic.  He has to consciously force his brain to think logically.  He reaches over and pats Smith’s nearly still body down, takes a mobile out of her jacket pocket then pulls Q into his arms and is up and running for the lift.  He pushes the down button and thankfully the lift has remained on this floor so they are headed for the ground level right away.   He stares at the mobile and curses the lack service in the lift.  Q’s breathing is labored and there is blood on his lips but he’s trying to speak.  “Don’t waste your energy unless it’s something vital.  I’m getting you to help right now.  Poison...Christ Q, if you die I swear I’ll pull a Juliet and fucking kill you again myself in the afterlife.”  He hopes the lame attempt at humor will convince Q he’s less terrified than he actually feels.  

 

Q tries to laugh but it comes out as more of a gurgling sound as his throat slowly closes up.   He can feel himself losing consciousness but he wants James to know he did all he could to survive this, to stay with him.  He opens his mouth and watches James, knows he sees the two bleeding gaps where his back molars used to be.  “Antidote,” he whispers, eyes closing.  “It should buy me half an hour.  M has the rest.”  He hears the distant ding of the lift doors opening and James shouting something into the mobile, but he only cares that it’s over and his insane plan worked.  James is safe now, and carrying him, so Q knows he’s safe as well.  He rests his head on James’ shoulder and lets the darkness take him.     

 

 

 

 

     

 

         


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I know it has been a very long wait for this, but believe me when I tell you it's better to wait for quality writing than have me post hastily written crap. This has been in editing for days but it was needed. So many thanks to the amazing Hedwig-Dordt (say hi on tumblr) who spent so much time helping me make this coherent. She is amazing! Also, thanks to the lovely Telula13 for poking me until I added much-needed scenes. Enjoy 16,202 words of all the promised fluff and cuddling, some difficult conversations, one destroyed kitchen and lots of lovemaking.

    (Because I am html impaired..[.Hedwig-Dordt](http://hedwig-dordt.tumblr.com/post/46525860712/professorfangirl-welcometothedarksideoflife) and [Telula13](../../../users/Telula13/pseuds/Telula13))

 

    Reality returns to Q slowly, as if his senses are coming back online one at a time.  The first thing that registers is a steady beeping noise.  ‘Medical,’ his hazy mind suggests.  He takes a moment to appreciate a soft bed and clean sheets.  The taste of blood and going far too long without access to a toothbrush causes him to wrinkle his nose in distaste.  Then come the smells: disinfectant, plastic...sweat, home.  James.  He smiles and opens his eyes, blinking into the fluorescent light. When his vision clears he sees James asleep in a chair with his head inches from Q’s hip and pillowed on one arm. His arm has fallen awkwardly across Q’s stomach, palm up as if waiting for Q to take his hand.  It’s clear that no one has managed to coax him into a shower and he has a few days worth of stubble and there is a plaster just below the nape of his neck and he looks exhausted even in sleep. Q has never seen anyone so beautiful.  He doesn’t want to wake James, but at the same time he really does because he wants him closer, up in the bed next to him, nurses and protocol be damned. Well, James promised him a vacation to Skye; there will be time to sleep eventually.  He reaches out a hand and scratches his fingers through James’ hair. Oh, how he missed touching this man.

 

James wakes to the familiar feeling of clever fingers sliding across his scalp and for a moment  he just leans into the touch contently before realising what it means. His eyes fly open. He sits up quickly and the rapid transition from sleep has adrenaline thrumming through his system and his heart rate spiking as he instinctively checks for danger.  Q looks down at him with a fond, amused expression.  James just stares at him for a second, trying to think of something to say because he feels like he should say something significant but all his mind will supply him with is, _Oh thank god_.

 

Q runs his fingers over James’ hand soothingly, trying to calm the slightly wild look in his eyes.  It’s the same one he gets when he wakes from a nightmare and momentarily forgets he’s somewhere safe.  

“Whoa there, you can turn off agent mode for now.  We’re safe here. Well, at least I assume so. This is Medical branch, Smith is dead,  I’m alive, right?”  

 

“Yes,” James replies, smiling because Q sounds almost like his usual self.  

 

“Good.”  Q scoots towards the far side of the bed where an IV drip is flowing into his right arm, wincing a bit as the movement aggravates his plaster-covered wounds.  He pats the space next to him. “Climb in. I know from experience the chairs in this place are engineered to be so uncomfortable no one wants to stay long. I even got one of the nurses to admit it once; she said it keeps people out of their way.”

 

“Everything’s a bloody conspiracy,” James complains with a grin as he stands and stretches before doing as Q asks. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve been the one in the chair and not the bed.” He slides an arm under Q’s neck and wraps the other gently around his waist beneath the sheet, mindful not to put too much pressure on the plasters as Q turns and snuggles into his side, head resting on his shoulder. James lets out a shaky breath and releases some of the tension he’s been living with, then tightens his grip fractionally. Just holding Q, knowing he will to be okay fills him with almost more than he can stand.  

 

"Have I been out of it for long?"

 

James glances over at the clock. "A little over a day, but they said it was just exhaustion not a coma."

 

Q curls the hand not trapped between them around James’ shoulder and moves his fingers in soothing circles. “I expected as much. So, how not okay are you?”  

 

James huffs and presses a kiss into Q’s hair.  “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

 

“I’d say we’re equally allowed to not be okay right now, actually. This time around though, when I ask I’d like for you to actually tell me instead of internalizing everything and becoming a general uncommunicative pain in my arse,” Q says in a voice completely lacking in venom before he reaches down to smack the side of James’ arse lightly. He shifts and lifts his head to look at James, expression one of teasing affection. “Because if you don’t, I recently learned a few new techniques for encouraging communication and-”

 

“Too soon!” James interjects before cutting him off with a kiss and locating a patch of bare skin at Q’s waist to tickle lightly with his fingers.  

 

Q laughs, relieved that James’ mood doesn’t turn dark and brooding because he really would prefer not to deal with anything too terribly heavy right now. “Sorry, I just- I know we have a lot to talk about and we might not be really okay for a while. I...fuck, I killed two people James.”

 

“One,” James corrects.

 

“Only because you showed up in time to take the credit,” Q says with a crooked smile.  “So I know we need to talk about all kinds of important stuff but I would really love it if we could pretend we don’t. Just for a while. Until we’re out of here at least.” He knows it’s probably not a psychologically sound request, especially given the hint of manipulation because James wouldn’t deny him anything right now. Besides, Q knows James generally prefers to avoid serious conversations at all, and right now he just wants to fast forward past the difficult things and be happy together again.  

 

James eyes Q speculatively. “Okay.  But just until we’re home and then it’s a pot of tea for you and a glass of whiskey for me and we’re having a long conversation. About everything.  Deal?”    

 

“Deal,” Q agrees with a nod.  

 

James’ heart lurches: it has been far too long since he’s seen Q look so truly happy and for that he’s more than willing to pretend everything is fine. For now. The fact that Q actually wants to avoid talking about something is rather concerning in itself. “Okay. Since everything is fine...” He kisses Q on the nose then slides down the bed enough to latch his lips onto Q’s shoulder and blow a raspberry before tickling an injury free area over his ribs. This is a side of himself even Q rarely sees, but he knows how much Q loves it when he’s uninhibited and ridiculous and right now he wants to give Q everything.  Even if it means making a complete fool of himself.

 

Q breaks out into peals of laughter and feels like the weight pressing down on him has vanished at least for a while. He twists and then sucks in a pained breath when the movement pulls at his healing wounds and the hands at his waist freeze but he doesn’t want James to stop.  He wants them to be okay, to just be happy. He’s about to say something when a scandalized, “Well I never!” comes from the doorway.

 

Both men look over and meet the shocked gaze of Mrs. Finch, the head nurse.  Her lips are pursed, suppressing a smile and trying to look stern. “James Bond, what are you doing in my patient’s bed? And tickling him no less? You’re going to make him re-open his wounds! Have you no sense?” She stalks over to them and shakes her finger at James as if he’s a misbehaving child. “Now you leave him alone and let him heal! Get down at once!”

 

James wraps his arms firmly around Q and puts on his best stubborn face. “Celeste!  Aren’t you looking lovely today. Haven’t we been down this road enough times? Since when have I ever shown common sense while I’m here? Just count yourself lucky I’m not springing him free like I usually do myself.”

 

“He has a point,” Q says, peeking out from behind James’ shoulder. “No more tickling, I promise. I almost died for him, please let me keep him close,” Q pleads with his best puppy-dog eyes. Sometimes, he thinks, it’s just too easy.  

 

Mrs. Finch visibly softens. “Such a brave young man, poisoning yourself for Queen and Country. And this daft git.” She eyes James as if she’s trying to figure out what Q sees in him.  “Well I suppose he can stay then. But if I hear any more shenanigans I’m getting M down here to kick you out himself,” she declares as she goes around to change Q’s IV bag. She checks his vials then gently lifts up the edge of a plaster on his ribcage. “Looks like you managed to avoid any major infection, which is a bloody miracle. I suppose you’re not completely useless,” she says to James.

 

Q supposes James must have told her about the antibiotics and cleaning his wounds.  “Not completely, no,” Q replies with a smile. James just huffs as she shakes her head and leaves them alone again.

 

“You little shit, you have her eating right out of your hand don’t you?”  

       

“And you know nothing about that, do you?” Q comments with a sly smile.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” James replies, arranging Q carefully so he’s draped across his chest and pulling him down for a soft, undemanding kiss. He supposes it’s true. The most vicious interrogation possible has failed to make him do anything he wasn’t inclined to, but one pout from Q and James caves in.  The man’s power over him is staggering, yet he finds he can’t be arsed to care.  

 

A few minutes of lazy kissing later Q pulls back and looks down at James. “As much as I’d like to just stay like this all day, I really need to find a bathroom. And a toothbrush. And you need a shower because you’re stinking up my clean sheets,” he says with a dramatic wrinkling of his nose.  “And when you’re out, you should track down some food because I doubt you’ve eaten and my stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself.”  

 

James quirks an eyebrow up at him. “Anything else your majesty?”  

 

“That will be all for now.  You’re dismissed,” Q replies with a regal wave of his hand.  

 

“Most people are afraid of me, you know, and you just casually dismiss one of the most dangerous men in the world,” James points out with a smile as he sits up, helping Q up at the same time. "I like it."

 

Q swings his legs over the edge of the bed and slides off, then grabs his IV stand and begins wheeling it towards the loo. He looks back over his shoulder and gives James a playfully evil look. “Well, I can do that seeing as I’m in the same club.”

 

James watches him go and reflects that yes, even when he’s trailing plastic tubing, covered in plasters, and wearing only his pants, he genuinely wouldn’t want to mess with Q.  He could probably wire up some sort of a bomb using only the IV supplies and a urinal cake.  He supposes he really could use a shower even though he hates leaving Q alone. Grudgingly, he goes off in search of his supply of spare clothes and a laptop to keep Q amused. Then he steels himself to ask Mrs. Finch if Q is allowed solid foods.

 

When James returns, clean and bearing a tray of plain chicken and rice balanced on a laptop Q is back in bed and tapping away on a mobile. “Do I even want to know where you were hiding that thing?” James asks he closes the door then places the laptop on the floor and tray of food on the bed.  

 

“Ha ha.  As you noted, Celeste adores me and she was happy to find one for me. I’m just letting M know I’m awake. I’d rather face his wrath over text if he’s terribly put out by the stunt I pulled.”

 

James sits cross-legged on the bed with the tray between them. “Oh, put out is far too mild a term for the way he reacted when he showed up in the back of the ambulance along with the medics.”

 

Q cringes slightly. “I gathered that. He’s writing all in caps. Says he’s busy monitoring the progress with Smith’s man, but he’ll be coming down for a chat when he’s free.” He looks up at James with a pleased expression on his face. “So you resisted killing him then? Good call, I was hoping we’d be able to bring someone back for questioning.”

 

“It was a very near thing,” James admits. “I’ll tell you all about it later. But in the spirit of everything being fine, put that thing down and eat with me. I’ve procured us a lovely meal, as you can see,” he says in a wry voice.

 

Q sighs as he takes in the simple fare. “And I was so hoping for Thai. I suppose they told you I can’t have anything heavy yet, just in case it makes me nauseous.”  

 

“Got it in one. When we get you out of here I promise we’ll order takeaway from all your favorite places and eat so much we can’t do anything other than cuddle on the couch and catch up on Dr. Who.”

 

“I accept your offer. Still, I left a very specific explanation of the poison and its effects on the body. My stomach is perfectly fine since it was in no way corrosive; I didn’t want to end up like Silva.”

 

“Thank god for that. You’re going to have to explain it to me sometime, seems like something that could come in handy in the field.” James picks up a fork and hands it to Q before taking a bite himself.  

 

“It’s been a special project of mine for months. It’s a gorgeous, elegantly lethal substance. II wasn’t expecting it to go into human trials quite yet. Or to use this particular delivery system. Obviously having agents poison themselves as well as their targets would be impractical.” He takes a bite of chicken and makes a face. “I see the cafeteria food hasn’t improved in the last few days.”  

 

“Eat it all and I’ll let you have dessert,” James says in a voice heavy with the promise of pleasure and a hint of questioning whether that sounds okay.  

 

“Please,” Q breathes and his whole body flushes with desire for whatever it is James is offering. He hardly tastes the rest of the food, though whether it’s because he’s distracted or it really has no flavor is up for debate. James is just watching him and he’s so present, so absolutely focused on Q and it’s been so long since that’s happened that Q wants him closer, wants to be beneath him and surrounded by him and filled by him and okay, that’s one question answered. Apparently he hasn’t developed  a sudden aversion to sex, which is a relief.  Well, at least not slow, gentle sex, he decides as his thoughts skitter sideways away from the idea of rough play.  By the time he puts his fork down when he’s finished he’s already half-hard in anticipation.

 

James sets the tray on the ground next to the laptop then climbs back onto the bed and grabs the controller to raise the back up to a 45 degree angle before guiding Q to lie back against it.  He tucks himself up against Q’s side, sliding his right arm beneath Q’s neck and running the fingers of his other hand lightly up Q’s chest. “I warned Celeste that she might not want to check on you for a while, but I really have no guarantee she’s going to listen. Want me to keep this PG-rated?”

 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Q orders before grabbing the front of James’ button-down and dragging him forward into a kiss. He doesn’t even try to hide the low whine of ‘yes, finally,’ that escapes him and gets lost in James’ mouth. Because James isn’t going to leave him and there’s no impending danger and Q gets to keep him for weeks, months if he has anything to say about it. Then James’ hand slips down into his pants and wraps around his hardening cock and all coherent thought aside from ‘more’ leaves him.

 

    Q’s obvious enthusiasm relieves much of James’ anxiety. He wasn’t sure if Q would be hesitant about anything sexual after everything James put him through. It would be completely understandable if he were...averse. James was prepared to wait as long as necessary and stop if this made Q uncomfortable, but all James senses is desire so this much at least must be okay. He continues his slow rediscovery of Q’s tongue as he takes his time, moving his hand slowly over Q’s length, brushing his thumb over the head and twisting his fist on the downstroke. It feels incredible, the solid warmth against his palm and oh, he’s missed this. Missed the noises Q makes, the way he gets so lost in the sensation he forgets to keep moving his lips and just breathes into James’ mouth, lets James suck on his tongue and trusts James to keep going, to take care of him.  

 

“What-” Q sits forward and opens his eyes when James’ hand vanishes.

 

“Not stopping.  Just want to make it a bit easier,” James says as he slips a tube out of his pocket and flips the top, coating his fingers with lube before returning to his maddeningly slow movements.  Q falls back against the bed and bites his lip when James moves his hand lower to cup his testicles and roll them lightly, and when James resumes his unhurried stroking he begins to whimper and arches his neck and James falls in love with him all over again. He doesn’t know why it’s always so difficult for him to say it aloud, but it is. He leans in and sucks on Q’s earlobe then moves up to run his tongue along the delicate shell before letting his lips brush the sensitive skin just below his ear and whispers, “I need you to know that even when I was a total arse I still loved you.  After I left I still loved you. I don’t say it enough, and that might never change, but I do.”

 

Q’s eyes fly open and he turns his head towards James in pleased surprise. Whatever he had been expecting James to say it certainly wasn’t that. James’ eyes flick to the side and he looks as close to shy as Q has ever seen him and he has to blink back the sting of tears because his emotions are stuck on overdrive and he knows it’s easier for James to take down a terrorist regime than it is for him to say something he considers ‘sappy.’ He realises James is willing to make the effort for Q and if that’s not love he doesn’t know what is.  He scratches his fingers over the nape of James’ neck and tells him, “Same.” Then James is kissing him again with even more intensity and his fingers do something truly wicked and it’s been so long since James has touched him like this that his orgasm spikes through him almost immediately.  

 

James kisses Q through the waves of pleasure, cupping his hand to catch the evidence since he doesn’t want to get the plasters wet. Once Q has gone boneless he pulls away and looks at his hand consideringly.  He glances around but doesn’t want to wipe it on the clean sheets or his clothes so he shrugs and licks it off, making a face because as much as he loves the feeling of Q in his hand or mouth the taste of cum is something he’s just never going to appreciate.

 

Q watches James in sated amusement. “That face is such a compliment to me,” he teases as he pulls James' hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “I’ve told you you don’t need to do that; I know you hate the taste.”

 

“And I’ve told you it’s not a big deal.” Still, James wraps his hand around the back of Q’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss, letting Q’s tongue wash the taste out of his mouth.  

 

“I’ve missed this,” Q says, tucking his head into the crook of James’ shoulder. “Not the sex. Well okay, that too, but I’ve missed just being with you. Touching you. I’ve missed you griping about tripping over all of my cords and forgetting to buy milk on the way home and picking apart spy movies with me and leaving your wet towels on the floor and falling asleep with you and waking up too hot because you’re a bloody furnace, you know that right? Tell me you’re not going to leave me again. Not like that. Because I will find you and I will show you the meaning of the phrase, ‘hell hath no fury.’”

 

James wants to laugh, but something in the tone of Q’s voice stops him. Some long buried anger lies hidden beneath Q’s current ‘fine’ exterior and James has the feeling he’s in for a rather spectacular explosion once they’re back in their flat. He suppresses a shiver. “I won’t leave you like that again. Promise. Besides, I’m still officially retired so I can take as much time off as you’d like. We’ll go back to Skye and then who knows? Road trip across Europe? I’ve never actually done the tourist thing, too busy being an agent. Do you know I’ve been to Paris half a dozen times and never even been to the Eiffel Tower?”

 

“As long as you can guarantee we’ll actually see it this time and you won’t go looking for trouble at every turn that actually sounds amazing.”

 

“Not even a little trouble? Come on, you know you’ll get bored if it’s all tours and cheap souvenirs.  Could you at least hack the Louvre?  They say the really cool stuff is in the depot,” he says in his best, ‘I dare you’ voice.  

 

“Maybe,” Q concedes with a smile, snuggling in closer and closing his eyes after a yawn.  He feels so tired and more comfortable than he’s been in such a long time.  “I’d love to return the favor, but I think I’m going to go back to sleep now,” he mumbles.  

 

“Plenty of time for that later,” James replies as he holds Q close and runs his fingers lightly over bits of unblemished skin until Q's breathing evens out in sleep. He doesn’t plan on falling asleep himself, but he's barely slept in days and before long the steady beeping lulls him into unconsciousness as well. The sound of a door opening awakens him an indeterminate amount of time later, but he keeps his eyes closed in hopes that whoever it is will just go away since Q is still asleep.  

 

“Mrs. Finch tells me you’ve been sleeping for three hours so I’m allowed to wake you up,” Mallory states on his way over to the bed.  

 

James opens his eyes and glares, pleased when the man’s step visibly falters before he ignores the look and keeps walking until he’s standing over them. “Wake up Q, it’s judgment day,” James says, rubbing Q’s back.

 

Q makes a noise of displeasure and stretches, eyes blinking open slowly.  When he sees Mallory, he quickly sits up, pulling the sheet further up his chest.  “Sir,” he says in a voice he hopes comes across as respectfully determined, though he suspects it just registers as sleepy.  He doesn’t really want to deal with this right now, but there doesn’t seem to be a choice.

 

“I’d say something about this arrangement, but I’m having a ‘pick your battles’ kind of day,” Mallory states as he eyes the solid grip of James’ arms around Q. He rubs his eyes and sighs.  “I’d ask why you did it but that’s fairly apparent, and I’d ask how you took his place but the agent already filled me in. By all rights I should remove you from your position as Quartermaster and demote you to a bloody mail clerk for the stunt you just pulled. You are damned lucky your gamble paid off, Q. Christ, the two of you. I can’t decide if you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to MI6 or our certain doom.”

 

Q takes a calming breath then replies. “Respectfully sir, It was a well thought-out plan. I did my research and prepared as best I could. I was certain it would work, and it did. Hardly a gamble.”

 

“Then why didn’t you tell me about it instead of haring off on your own?!” Mallory grits out, clearly doing his best not to resort to shouting. “You can’t just take matters into your own hands, not when the welfare of this country is on the line. It’s unacceptable. It worked, and I’m glad it did. I’m glad we have Smith’s man. I’m glad we have a room filled with computers that Q branch is analysing as we speak- and no you can’t go help, before you even ask- but your actions were still out of line.”

 

“I wasn’t certain you would allow me to enact my plan so I didn’t ask, no. I apologize for causing you anxiety, but I’m not sorry I did it,” Q states, looking Mallory in the eye.  

 

“You need to have more faith in me, Q. I would have hated the idea, but I would have allowed it. I swear the trust issues between the pair of you could keep our therapists busy for years. I don’t know what the solution is, I honestly don’t. We all know I can’t fire you because we need you, and there’s also the fact that this berk would quit for real if I did and the last thing I need is you two running around like vigilantes. Again.”  

 

James narrows his eyes in irritation, protective instincts kicking in.  “This berk just helped take down enemy to the crown number one. And you know we’re loyal and would never do anything to harm England. Q made a judgement call.  He was right.  He’s a bloody hero.”

 

“The point is not that the two of you managed not to cock it up, Bond! The point is that he acted without consulting me and that sort of action makes him a potential liability!” He presses a few fingers to the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I swear there aren’t enough painkillers in all of the Commonwealth for dealing with you two. I’m not saying I don’t trust either of you, since God help us all, I do. I’m asking that in return you start trusting me by letting me in on your suicidal plans. Say you can do that, and I’ll only leave a reprimand on your records for this whole situation. Is that understood?”

 

Q jumps in just in case James is considering saying something ill-advised.  “Yes. Good. We can do that.”

 

“Right. That’s sorted then,” Mallory states in the tone of one who wishes he could believe what he was saying. “Not that I’ll have to worry about it for a bit because neither of you are fit for duty right now. Q, I’m mandating a month of leave time. At the very least. And Bond-”

 

“Sorry, I’m still officially retired so you can’t mandate any leave. You can just re-hire me.  In three months.” He looks over at Q and smiles at the elated expression on his face. “Will that do?”

 

“I think it will, yes.” Q’s smile widens.  

 

Mallory blinks in surprise. “Three months? That’s a long time for Q branch to be without its Quartermaster.  Though I do hope the next major world threat will wait at least that long to make an appearance.  Are you certain your workers can manage that long without you?”  

 

Q looks affronted.  “My workers are the best.  They can more than manage.  Besides, we’ll be on a road trip not headed to the moon.  I’ll work remotely as needed and be available should anyone need to get in contact with me.”

 

“Dear God, I’m setting the two of you loose on an unsuspecting Europe?  Promise not to start any wars and I’ll agree to it.  Besides, I could use the break as well,” he adds with a faint smile of his own before he nods in dismissal and heads back out the door.

 

Q pulls James into a kiss the moment the door clicks shut. “We’re really going to do it?”

 

“Of course we are. That gorgeous car of yours hasn’t gotten nearly enough use.  Incidentally, how good are you at erasing traffic violations from international databases?” James gives him a devious look.

 

“Very,” Q replies with a smirk.

 

“Excellent. Just in case we’re the rare exception to the understood no speed limit on the autobahn rule. I want to know how fast you can drive with your cock halfway down my throat,” James practically purrs as he nips at Q’s jawline.

 

Q feels his entire body flush and tingle with anticipation. “God James, it’s really unfair of you to tease me with that image when you know it’ll be weeks before I’m healed enough to feel comfortable sitting in a car for long, even one that drives as smoothly as the Vanquish.”

 

“Well it’s probably a good thing we have that much time.  It’s been so long since I’ve sucked you off that if we started out in a car you’d crash us for sure.” He licks at Q’s neck and slides his hand back down to slip beneath the band of his pants and tease the heated skin there.  “I don’t want you to think being back with you is only about sex for me, because it isn’t. If you don’t want it now, if it’s too much after everything, I'll just wrap you up and we can talk, or I brought you a laptop to watch movies or play practical jokes on M; whatever you want. I just want you to know I’m also ready to begin re-acquainting you with the way my mouth feels around your cock.” He sucks on Q’s earlobe while waiting for a reply, hoping he’s not pushing too hard but he doesn’t feel any nervous tension in Q’s body so he thinks it’s fine.     

 

The laugh that escapes Q surprises him, but he supposes he can blame his haywire emotions and the fact that it feels like James’ words pushed another weight off his chest that he wasn’t even aware of existing, and suddenly he can breathe easier. He feels lighter, happier, knowing James is willing to wait for him. Even though Q suspected he would be, hearing it makes it real. “I would actually love for you to begin right now. But it means a lot to me, knowing you aren’t going to push for anything. I don’t think I feel any sort of aversion to sex in general, and the second we are out of here and back in our flat I want nothing more than for you to take me slowly with no condom so I can actually appreciate the feeling this time around.” He smiles as James eyes turn heated and he can feel the spike of arousal in the way James’ arms tighten around him. “I think it’s going to be a while before I’ll be reaching for any edgy toys though.”

 

“Thank god for that, because I’m sure it’s going to be even longer before I’m ready for anything even remotely violent. I’ll just have to resort to road head and creative locations so you don’t bore of me.”

 

“I think we’ll manage somehow,” Q says as he leans in for a kiss and god, how could he ever get bored of just this?

 

James finally forces his mouth off of Q’s a few minutes later because he really does want to get his mouth around the hard length beneath his palm. “Be right back,” he promises before getting up and dragging the chair over so he can lean it beneath the door handle in a makeshift lock then makes sure the blinds are shut. “This is a bit harder to conceal quickly and I don’t want to scar poor Celeste for life.” He walks back over to Q, assessing how to best make this work on a bed with both side rails on the top half and a footboard. “Would you be okay if you sat on the edge of the bed? It wouldn’t put pressure on the plasters that way, but I don’t want you to get tired.”

 

Q rolls his eyes as he scoots down and swing his legs over the side to face James.  “I’m pretty sure I can handle sitting up.” He leans back on his hands, spreads his legs and gives James a ‘come hither’ smile.        

 

   “Hmmm, we’ll see about that. I’m guessing I’ll be holding you up by the time I’m through.”  He licks his lips as he runs his hands up Q’s thighs, careful to keep his touch light over the injured areas. He takes the controller and lowers the bed as far as it will go, grabs a pillow and drops it on the floor then lowers himself to kneel on it. The position is perfect; he can easily lean forward and wrap his arms around Q’s waist as he mouths at the material barely concealing Q’s twitching erection.  

 

Q whines and pushes his hips forward as he looks down at James, who has his eyes closed in apparent bliss as he gently bites at the wet spot on Q’s pants. “Oh god, that’s...can you just tease me later please?”

 

James doesn’t reply, he just drags Q’s pants down over his hips and off, then wraps a fist around the base of Q’s cock and brings his lips down to meet it. Q’s response is gorgeous, all barely-restrained cries as he presses his heels into James’ lower back and his hips jerk and the sensations shoot straight to James’ own trapped length. The sharp tang of pre-cum spreads across his tongue and he laps it up greedily because this taste he does like and he’s instantly and irrevocably lost in this moment, this feeling, this man. His focus narrows to giving Q pleasure the same way it does when he’s honing in on a kill and MI6 could blow up again right now and he probably wouldn’t notice. All that matters is the slide of warm flesh against his tongue, the low, desperate noises Q is making and the fingers caressing his scalp.

 

Q tries to keep still and quiet so no one has reason to come check on him, but it’s damned difficult because James is so clearly into this. His mouth is making obscene wet sounds and his arms have come up to wrap around Q’s waist so there is only James’ mouth on him and Q can feel saliva dripping onto his balls and he tries to hold off, to make it last but there’s really no hope for that once James starts swiveling his neck then swallows Q as deeply as he can. All of Q’s nerve endings short-circuit and he drops back onto the bed as James sucks every possible drop, every last bit of sparking pleasure from him and he feels vaguely drunk as James leans over him and doesn’t so much kiss him as claim him and all he can do is submit.  Not that he’d want to do anything else. After a few minutes his thoughts coalesce enough for him to realize that he does want something else. He pushes at James’ shoulders until he sits up, looking feral. Q slides his hand down to palm the firm bulge in James trousers and whispers, “Please.”

 

“Q, you should be resting,” James says weakly, because of course he would love for Q to bring him off but he doesn’t need it more than he needs Q to heal. “I can take care of it. You can watch if you want though,” he smirks.

 

Q shakes his head no. “I won’t move around and re-injure myself. Promise. I’ll even make you do most of the work. Just let me lie down.” He shifts and James lets him rearrange himself so he’s lying on his back with his head halfway up the angled top of the bed then he holds his hands out to James, who is watching him with slightly guilty desire. Q knows it’s manipulative but he really wants this and it’s not untrue so he says, “I want this now, when I’m allowed to show how much I love it, when it’s just the two of us. I want this memory instead. Please.”  

 

James caves immediately because as much as he’s the tough alpha male in most settings, Q is his kryptonite- a term he only knows because Q make him sit through all the Christopher Reeve movies- which in itself is proof that he is incapable of denying Q anything.  He undoes his trousers and pushes them to the floor with his pants, sparing a thought to hope the door really is stuck shut then deciding he doesn’t give a shit if it’s not as he climbs onto the bed. He knows exactly what Q wants so he kneels up over him and just the feeling of Q’s hands on his hips sets his erection bumping against his stomach. He braces his hands on the top of the bed and angles his hips forward to paint Q’s lips with the moisture leaking from the tip of his cock and Q hums his approval, eyes tilted up and fixed on James’.

 

“So no violence for now. That’s fine. Do it like you’re making love to me then,” Q requests then parts his lips for James to slip his length between them. He’s never asked for it slow before, for this his preference is rough and intense, fingers fisted in his hair as he concentrates on not choking-he grips James’ hips harder as the uncomfortable memory of being trapped in that room, pretending to hate it surfaces and he slams a mental door on it hard- so he isn’t sure what James is going to do. Of course what he does is utterly perfect and why had Q expected any less? James undulates his hips slowly, watching carefully and pushing in deep but pulling back before Q’s nearly nonexistent gag reflex is triggered. His motions are steady and worshipful and even when Q can see his thighs trembling with the urge to just take, he doesn’t.  Even when he speeds up the curve of his body is sinuous and his cock glides smoothly over Q’s tongue and oh, he may need to ask for this again sometime because it’s glorious. When James finally does come he doesn’t shove in deep, he just tenses up and holds perfectly still, allowing Q to move his mouth and tongue over him however he pleases and it’s one of the most impressive shows of control Q has ever seen from him. It is also, quite frankly, hot as hell. Especially when even after he’s sated James doesn’t move, he just slides one hand along Q’s jaw and lets him indulge himself in suckling on James’ softening cock, which he does for a blissful minute before urging James to lie down next to him.

 

“Good?” James asks, wrapping his arms around Q and tucking his head into the crook of Q’s neck.

 

“Better than.” He slings a leg over James’ and trails his fingers idly over James’ back. “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For existing, I think,” Q replies sleepily.  

 

“You’re half asleep again, aren’t you?”James asks with a smile.

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Well as much as I’d love to let you fall asleep like this, we need to get some clothes back on so I can let Celeste back in. I think I heard the door rattling at some point there and if we wait too long she’ll send an agent to break down the door and I’d rather avoid that scenario.”

 

Q makes a noise like a teenager being told he has to get out of bed for school. “Fine.  But I’m not moving.”

 

“You’re really going to milk this thing aren’t you?” James teases.

 

“Absolutely.  You may have a problem with me taking care of you, but I am feeling very okay with the idea of you taking care of me.”  Q peeks at James out of one eye.  “Just so you’re aware.”  

 

“Noted,” James replies with a grin before getting up and retrieving their clothes. He slides Q’s pants back on then makes himself presentable before moving the chair away from the door and climbing back in bed with Q. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that as well. To see Q so clearly enjoying himself was like salve on the mental wound of how horrible it had been to even pretend he was forcing Q to do something he didn’t want to.   

 

The next few days are filled with visits from what seems like most of MI6 and by the end the room is covered in so many flowers and cards it could be mistaken for a florist shop. James has been gone so often over the course of their relationship that he never really realized just how popular his Quartermaster is at MI6l. Seeing it now makes him feel an odd mix of happy and jealous. Not jealous of Q’s affections, more jealous that all of Q’s workers get to see him every day.  They spend enough time together to have inside jokes, to laugh about little disasters and share gossip about people James hardly knows.  He doesn’t know silly little things like how Q created a little robot dog like K-9 from Dr. Who that went rogue and had M trapped in a supply closet all night before Q arrived in the morning to wrangle it back into submission.  A process that apparently included distracting it by rolling doughnuts down the hallway for it to kill.  Hearing the story from Q’s laughing second-in-command, a fierce young woman everyone simply calls “Khaleesi,” apparently another inside joke, fills James with an uncomfortable sort of sadness and guilt.  Because he should know all of these things and the fact that he doesn’t is at least 99% his fault.  With the way he was either distant or snapping at Q every other minute before he left this last time it’s no wonder Q gave up on telling him this sort of thing.  He is forced to admit, yet again, that he has been acting like a colossal idiot.  He still has a difficult time understanding why, but Q has given him his heart to take care of and James, whose very job description is protector, has failed spectacularly.  

 

Three days in medical pass surprisingly quickly with all the visitors, and Eve shows up with Smith’s personal laptop for Q to work on- apparently she convinced Mallory to just give him something to avoid him figuring out a way to hack into the data on his own- so Q spends hours happily playing around on the thing and dissecting Smith’s files and security networks. Mallory informs James that currently employed or not, he’s filling out a damned report on his entire time undercover and Q glares him into submission so that takes up a significant amount of hours. Then there is all the time between visitors and at night spent re-learning each other’s bodies and it’s amazing, but James can’t help feeling like things are still a bit off between them and the silences are filled with unspoken words. He keeps to his promise not to talk about anything serious, but for the first time in his life he finds he actually wants to. When Celeste declares that Q is free to go as long as he leaves on the special skin-like plasters for at least a week and James promises to make sure he rests, James is both relieved and nervous because he’s spent days thinking of what he wants to say to Q and he’s still afraid he’s going to cock it all up.

 

A driver takes them to their flat and the ride up in the lift feels interminable to James and then they are finally walking into their home. The door clicks shut behind them and James takes a deep breath, but before he can say anything his arms are full of Q and he’s being pressed back against the door and kissed and he wants to just go with it, to take Q to bed like he’s so obviously requesting, but he can’t do it.  Not until he knows they’re going to be okay.  “Wait, Q, just...not yet.”

 

Q pulls back and gives James a surprised look. “Seriously? What happened to the idea of you,” he kisses James, “inside of me,” another kiss, “with no barriers? Slowly. Preferably for hours.” He gives James a seductive, ‘please’ sort of look, one that always works.  Because he knows they need to talk for real, he does, but that means he’ll have to process things for real and for the first time in his life his brain is actively rebelling against thinking.  

 

James slides his hands down to Q’s waist and holds him in place. “I want that too, but when I’m inside of you I want to look into your eyes and see all of you, even the part you’ve hidden in a secure file somewhere in here.” He moves a hand up to caress Q’s hair and taps lightly on his temple.  “I can hardly believe I’m saying this, but I’d like a pot of tea and a long conversation and then I promise you sex so mindblowing you’ll be drunk on it for days.”

 

Q sags visibly, swallows hard, then steps in and wraps his arms around James and rests his head on James’ shoulder. “Fine. I’ll make the tea while you shake the dust off of our bed.  I haven’t been here for months so there’s nothing to eat. I’ll order some for delivery. Thai okay?”

 

“Anything other than cafeteria food sounds amazing,” James agrees, hugging Q tight and kissing the top of his head before letting him step away.

 

 Ten minutes later they are holding steaming mugs of tea and sitting on the couch with their thighs brushing. Q glances over at James, irritated with himself for being so hesitant about talking about serious things when he’s usually the one goading James into it. He tries to figure out how to start, but when he opens his mouth what comes out is, “Did you want something stronger? I seem to recall you wanting whiskey for this conversation.”

 

“No, this is fine. I want to keep a clear head. No promises about afterwards though,” he adds with a small smile. “Christ, I’m bad at this. Days of thinking and I still don’t know what to say, but I feel like I should start.”

 

“Well, go right ahead. I don’t know where to begin either,” Q admits, fiddling with the handle of his mug.

 

James takes a deep breath.  “Okay. So ah...it seems that I’ve been more than a bit of an insensitive fuck lately.”

 

Q narrowly avoids spitting out his sip of tea. “Nice to see you’re not going to sugar-coat it.”

 

“No point really, we both know it’s true. I’ve never really been in a relationship, and definitely not since Vesper.  I have too much baggage too much baggage in my past messing with the present.  Looking back on all those months I barely talked to you while I was off chasing after Smith. The weeks I made you miserable before leaving you...well, I wouldn’t blame you for hating me for the way I treated you. I hate myself for it too.”  

 

Something in James’ tone snaps Q out of his uncommunicative state because suddenly he’s more pissed than nervous. “Oh you can just stop right the fuck there. You wouldn’t blame me for hating you? That’s what you’re going to go with? Yes, let’s just turn this into a pity party for poor, damaged 007. As if I don’t already know all about the shit in your past! You have so many reasons for being an insensitive fuck and I’m always so understanding. I just put up with your bullshit because I love you but you know what? That’s bullshit too!”  

 

James’ initial reaction is a stomach-twisting fear, because did Q just say that loving him is bullshit? Then he realizes Q probably means the putting up with him part, which is only marginally better. He thought it would take Q longer to explode, but he’s relieved because if Q is angry he’s more likely to say just what’s on his mind. James finds he’s uncharacteristically calm for an impending fight. He knows they need to get this sorted between them, but that requires that Q keeps talking.  “I know it is! You shouldn’t have to put up with me and if you had any sense you would never have volunteered to babysit me after the Skyfall mess. But lucky for me you’re as stupid as the rest of us when it comes to your love life!”

 

“Oh, so now I’m stupid?!” Q asks incredulously. This is James’ idea of a productive conversation? He feels his entire body heat up in irritation.

 

James jumps in before Q can go off on a rant. “Welcome to being human, Q. And I’m not trying to have a pity party. I’m not going to say I’m not good enough for you and I don’t deserve you because damn it, I am and I do!  I’ve given my life to saving the bloody country, sometimes the world, but I never felt like I’d done anything truly special until you. You wanted me because of something I am, not because of how you could use me or who I could kill and that--somehow I got you to love me and I still don’t understand how but it means more to me than anything and I’m not about to lose you. I was an arsehole, no denying it. I took out my frustrations on you and I didn’t talk to you or ask about what was going on in your life so I didn’t know about things like that K-9 robot.  I can explain why all day long but it won’t fucking matter because I can’t change how I acted. I can only tell you I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry and I’ll do better from now on. I love you and I want us to be okay again, and I’ll do anything I need to for that to happen.” He stops to take a breath and realizes he’s gripping his mug so tight it’s in danger of cracking and he’s afraid to look at Q because he doesn’t know if all that was the right thing to say or not but it’s true, and he means it when he says he’s going to do better about communicating.

 

Q sets his mug down before he drops it, because he’d been expecting a much more combative response and one far less heartfelt. He looks over at James, at the nervous tension in the clench of his jaw and most of his anger evaporates. He’s still pissed, but the malicious urge to cause pain just because he’s hurting isn’t there anymore. “And I was just gearing up for another screaming match. Now I need a moment to re-adjust.”

 

“Those were pretty much all my fault,” James concedes in a pained voice.

 

“No arguments from me. I recall a particularly loud one over the fact that I was, how did you put it? ‘Treating you like a piece of performance art’ when I wasn’t talking to you since the previous conversation ended in you telling me you didn’t need to hear about every trivial thing I did every moment I was gone.”

 

James groans and slumps against the back of the couch. “Yeah, that was extra douchy even for me. God Q, I’m just...really, really lucky you’re here right now, aren’t I?”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

“It’s mostly because I’m so good in bed, isn’t it?”

 

“Possibly.”  Q can’t resist a small smile. “But you’re sidetracking the conversation. I’m waiting to hear what possible reason you had for just leaving me like that. God James, you have no idea what that did to me. I could guess at the reasoning, somehow trying to keep me safe and all of that, but I didn't know for sure. I assumed you still loved me, but then it was weeks and weeks of silence and even when you came back on the radar you didn't talk to me and I started to wonder if maybe you really were done with me. I went a little crazy to be honest. I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to think about you but I couldn't not think of you. I couldn't find Smith and I felt useless and depressed and I couldn't go outside, I was just trapped and losing it by degrees and you never cared enough to find any of that out for yourself."  He swallows around the growing lump in his throat. "I wasn't okay without you. I'm sure that's wrong and co-dependent and it probably would've been different if you broke up with me or were dead but you were just gone and I didn't...I couldn't..."  He closes his eyes and tries to organise his thoughts but it feels like all the repressed pain from the past few months is suddenly flooding into his consciousness and his skin feels too tight, his skull too fragile to contain it all. The jarring sound of James' mug shattering against the kitchen tiles a few meters away is strangely grounding. He opens his eyes and looks over at James in surprise.

 

"Sorry, I’m just really mad at myself and I feel like breaking things," James says in a barely controlled voice. Actually he feels like killing things but that's not an option."I hate that I hurt you like that and you have every right to be angry with me. Care to join me?  You look ready to break a few things yourself." Hearing how badly he hurt Q is more painful than he expected and Q looks like he's about to lose it over finally letting himself feel again. He's no therapist, he just knows sometimes fucking shit up is therapeutic.

 

"You know, I really do."  Since aggressive, violent sex is off the menu for a while and he needs some sort of release, why the hell not?

 

James gets up and disappears for a moment before returning with an empty laundry basket. He goes into the kitchen and begins opening cupboard doors and sweeping an assortment of plates, glasses and bowls into it with rather satisfying crashes. He returns to sit next to Q and places it on the coffee table in front of them. He selects a dinner plate and hands it to Q. "Bonus points if you can take out the wine glasses," he challenges.

 

Q looks over at the rows of dangling stemware beneath the far cupboard and grins. He throws the plate like a frisbee as hard as he can and it shatters in a spectacular manner against the wall above the sink, narrowly missing his target. He picks up a bowl just as the plate James throws explodes in an array of clear glass and blue ceramic as it takes out one row of expensive crystal goblets. Q yells something inarticulate, just because he feels like yelling right now and feels a rush of satisfaction when another row of glasses goes crashing onto the marble countertop. Then it's a free-for-all and the flat echoes with the sound of shattering dishes and the occasional metallic clang of cooking utensils tumbling out of their canisters or the stove being hit by glass shrapnel. When the basket is finally empty the kitchen looks like the aftermath of an earthquake in a china shop and Q is breathing hard and feels like he's experiencing a post-fight endorphin rush, but he actually feels a lot better.  

 

"Huh. Well I guess that's it for the glass of whiskey idea then," James comments in a falsely mournful voice. A second later he hears a choked snort and looks over to see Q with a hand clapped over his mouth, his eyes full of the sort of guilty mirth that comes from laughing at inappropriate times. James smiles in response then the lone surviving wine glass falls to its death with a ringing crash and he loses it. He can't remember the last time he laughed this hard and next to him Q seems to have given in as well because he is wiping at his eyes and leaning against James' shoulder and shaking with great peals of laughter and James wraps an arm around his shoulder and knows they are going to be okay.

 

"Oh, I can't breathe! Ow ow ow," Q pants, clutching at the plasters over his ribs as his laughter subsides. That was the most ridiculous, juvenile thing he's done in years and it was more fun destroying the kitchen than it had any right to be, and James is brilliant and crazy and moments like this are exactly why Q loves him. They still have a lot to deal with, but they're going to be okay.  

 

"Sorry, sorry. Forgot about that for a second," James says, running his hands soothingly over whatever part of Q they can reach. "Well it looks like we have some shopping to do, but if you feel better, it was worth it."  

 

"I actually do, yeah," Q replies with a grin. "Though now I don't know how to go back to our conversation. I don't really feel like getting so serious again quite yet. I'm not saying I don't want to talk, like in Medical, just...not right now."

 

"Well I think we have months to talk and we don't need to sort everything out in a few hours. But I do want to talk about everything. It's important to me because you are important to me. Okay?"

 

"Okay. And thank you; that means a lot to me. So. So far we've established that you were an insensitive fuck and I was a wreck without you. And you're sorry  Right?"

 

"Right," James agrees, kissing Q's temple.

 

"James?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Take me to bed now?"

 

"God, yes." James watches as Q shifts subtly, preparing for James’ typical aggressive attack. Aggression is the farthest thing from his mind right now, so he gets to surprise Q by sliding his hands slowly up to hold Q’s face gently, running his thumbs across Q’s jaw lightly until Q’s eyes go soft with understanding. “Slowly. For hours.”

 

“Yes,” Q breathes, most of the remaining tension bleeding out of him as James shifts to pull him to sit sideways across his lap. Q closes his eyes and parts his lips, waiting for a kiss that doesn’t come. He can feel James’ breath ghosting across his mouth and it sends a thrill of anticipation through him. Then James’ tongue sweeps across his lips and dips into his mouth to trace over his teeth then teases at his soft palate. It isn’t so much a kiss as an exploration and he doesn’t bother to suppress an impatient whine. That only earns him a smile against his mouth and before he can try anything else the sound of the door buzzer separates them.

“Can we just ignore that?”

 

“No.  We can eat it later, but I’m intent on fattening you up so unless you have a hidden supply of food around here...?”  

 

“Fine. But we can eat it later,” Q huffs, sliding off James’ lap. “I’ll just meet you in the bedroom,” he says with a wink as he walks away, pulling his shirt up and over his head as he goes. Just to encourage James to hurry the hell up.  

 

James does. He pays for the food and throws it in the fridge, a process that takes only about a minute but by the time he gets to their bedroom Q is already lying naked on their bed in the early afternoon sunlight. Even covered in plasters with his rib and hip bones showing far too clearly he is breathtaking. James walks over to the bed and strips quickly, deciding neither of them are in the mood for teasing, then runs a hand from the bottom of Q’s foot up his leg, skims up his half-hard length then continues up his chest to curl around the back of Q’s neck as he climbs onto the bed and straddles Q’s hips before kissing him, slowly, deeply consuming. The need that spikes through him borders on disturbing because he’s never needed another person the way he needs Q. Codependent even doesn’t begin to cover it.

 

Q arches up into James, luxuriating in the contrast of the cool satin sheets and the heat of James’ skin and he crosses his legs behind James’ thighs in a practiced motion and just lets go, throws up firewalls in his mind against anything that isn’t this, James, now.  He drags his hands up and down James’ back, his arms, his perfect arse, then James shifts so their cocks brush and Q keens into his mouth, zero inhibitions left and this is one of the best things about their relationship. He’s never had this before, so much love and trust he doesn’t have to worry if he sounds weird or if he’s doing things right. With James, he can just let his body do what it wants, and that makes this simple act of skin sliding against skin better than the most intimate sexual act with anyone else.  

 

James can sense Q’s surrender and it’s a heady feeling, knowing that Q trusts him so much even after everything he’s done. He wants, more than anything, to make himself worthy of it. And he will, but that will take time. For now all he can do is override all of the recent pain he’s caused with so much pleasure that when Q thinks of him this is the first memory that comes to mind. He moves down Q’s body slowly, licking a path through the maze of plasters then running his tongue around the tip of his cock and down, moving Q’s thighs apart so he can dip his head down and suck each testicle into his mouth, humming, then smiling when he gets a piece of hair stuck between his teeth because it’s imperfect and therefore proof that this isn’t just another one of the many fantasies he created while they were apart. “Turn over, love,” he requests before grabbing a pillow to slide under Q’s stomach so he’ll be more comfortable.  

 

Q does as he’s asked, already feeling half-drunk on all of the attention. He knows how James wants him and the knowledge sends a thrill of anticipation through him as he pulls his knees up and leans forward over the pillow, resting his head on his crossed arms. He’s caught off guard when the first brush of James’ fingers down the cleft of his arse sends a tendril of almost-fear through him and he pulls away with a sharp intake of breath. He can’t stop his mind from flashing back to the last time James did this, with the camera and all of his nerves and the awful wrongness of his cries of ‘no, stop.’

 

James freezes immediately and moves to lie next to Q and pull him down into his arms.  “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Artemis,” James murmurs, hands rubbing soothing circles onto his back. He can guess, but he thinks it will help Q to say it.    

 

“I don’t know what happened. I was fine, then I couldn’t help thinking about it- the last time you took me from behind and Smith was watching and it was...fuck, that was the most horrible experience of my life, James. It was so confusing. I wanted it, you didn’t force me at all, but having to pretend you were- that you would actually do that to me- and it felt so good but I had to sound like I hated it, act like I hated it, as if you disgusted me when I love you and I knew you were only doing what you had to do but it was still horrible.” He shivers, feeling suddenly cold despite James’ warmth.

 

“It was the most horrible experience of my life too. I’m sorry, I should’ve stopped, consequences to the mission be damned. I understand being confused, because I would never, never do anything like that in any other situation. My mind was screaming how wrong it was. God, the way you sounded-” his voice breaks as he holds Q tighter. “If you ever tell me no, that you don’t want something, I’ll stop immediately. No matter what. I promise. If I feel any sort of distress I’ll stop. Like right now. Do you believe me?” Please, please believe me, James prays.  

 

“Of course I believe you. But right now, I don’t want you to stop. I think I need this, to feel you being gentle with me, loving me.  Just...I want you to be facing me when you’re inside of me.”  The moment the words are out Q knows they’re true.  He does want it, want to be reminded of how good it feels when James is inside of him, to be that connected to him now that it’s just the two of them.  

 

“I can promise you all of that. But are you really sure?  Because we can wait. I can wait.”  James watches Q’s eyes carefully.

 

“I’m sure.”  Q slips away and goes back to leaning forward over the pillow. “Just go slowly.”

 

“I will,” James promises in a gentle voice, awed by Q’s continued trust in him. “Let me show you how I wanted out first time together again to go.” He runs his hands over the pale skin of Q’s unblemished arse before shifting closer so he can lean in run the tip of his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, smiling when Q whines and presses back immediately, begging for more contact. James is happy to give it, and how much he loves this is still something of a surprise to him- so much of his time with Q has been a revelation since he’d thought he was well past the point of learning anything new concerning sex. He wraps his hands around Q’s hips and concentrates on reminding him how good they are together. He knows he can make Q come with only his tongue if he’s willing to be patient and ignore the eventual ache in his tongue and jaw, and right now he is more than willing to lick and suck and push his tongue into Q’s tight heat for hours if that’s what it takes.  

 

Q realizes only after about ten minutes of James’ talented tongue that James intends to bring him off just like this, no hand on his cock or fingers in his arse. He’s only accomplished that once but he’s fairly certain he can do it again -because fucking hell does this feel good.  Before long he’s clawing at the sheets and his entire body is flushed and trembling and he’s close, so damned close and he can’t stop his hips from rocking back onto James’ tongue.  “That’s...fuck that’s good but I really want you inside of me.”

 

“Soon,” James promises, then runs his tongue down to lap at the skin behind Q’s tight sack. “We have as much time as we want, and I want us to last while I’m inside of you.”

 

“Does that mean I get to torture you next?” Q groans, shuddering as the beginnings of his orgasm spike through him.

 

“Hmm,” is all James can manage in reply since his tongue is busy, and he reflects that Q must really feeling better to use that particular turn of phrase. He is so close to coming himself just from this that he knows Q won’t have to do anything at all, which is perfect since that’s exactly what he wants right now. Moments later Q swears and his entire body jerks with the force of his orgasm, and James just licks slowly over his spit-slicked opening until Q relaxes and falls sideways onto the bed and out of the way of the now-messy pillow.

 

“You’re better than I remember,” Q pants, looking up at James in sated adoration. His eyes travel down to James’ erection which is a straining dark pink bordering on purple. “Let me watch you,” Q requests, knowing James loves the exhibitionism as much as he loves to watch.  

 

“Not gonna take long,” James growls, kneeling up so Q can watch as he licks his palm then wraps his fist around his aching cock. He watches Q’s eyes, lazy with his recent release but still completely present and focused on James’ movements. Q bites his lip and that’s all it takes for James to arch his back and let the warm strings coat his chest. James takes the pillow and wipes himself off then tosses it onto the floor and grabs the bottle of lube off the bedside table and moves into the circle of Q’s arms. He lies on his side and pulls Q’s top leg over his own so he can reach down to circle two fingers around Q’s relaxed opening. “Is this okay?”

 

“God yes,” Q sighs, biting at James’ ear.

 

James coats his fingers with lube and warms it between them for a few seconds before moving them back down to slip one finger gently inside, meeting only token resistance. “You feel so good.  Can I just play until I’m ready?  I doubt it will take me long,” James purrs.  

 

“Please,” Q invites before sliding his lips back over James’, floating on the blissful sensation of James’ fingers inside of him. His nerve endings are extra sensitive right now and it doesn’t feel like James is preparing him so much as making love to him with his fingers because his movements are completely unhurried, a gentle exploration with slow twists and soft brushes over his prostate and it’s everything he’s been craving. He calculates that even in James’ current state it will be at least twenty minutes before he’s fully hard again and he revels in the idea of that much foreplay. Even if James uses plenty of lube he’s going to be mildly sore from that much friction by the time James enters him, but in the best possible way. He loves that James knows he likes the feeling of almost-pain/nearly too much, and since he’s not going to get a hard fucking this is the best way to give it to him. He scratches his nails down James’ back, over his arse, slips a hand between their bodies and teases at James’ cock, pleased when it twitches with interest.  

 

After a few minutes of languid kisses James pulls back and begins speaking low into Q’s ear, all the things he thinks but doesn’t say often enough. “I love you... When we’re apart I miss you like hell... You’re gorgeous... I love the way you taste, smell, feel. You’re brilliant. I love watching you get excited about computers and gadgets. You’re adorable when you try to cook. I love that you know as much about weapons as I do. Your voice in my ear keeps me calm when I’m in the field. You make me want to come home. I love that you can take me down in a fight. ...”  A long list of everything he wants Q to know and when he runs out of words he goes back to kissing him and all the while his two fingers are moving inside of Q.  He doesn’t add a third finger until he’s hard again and Q’s low whimper of ‘yes, now,’ is all the permission he needs.

 

Q’s eyes are closed, so when James vanishes for a moment then urges him to lie on his back the feeling of fuzzy material against his skin makes him open his eyes to find out what’s going on. For a moment he looks down at the fluffy bath towel beneath him in confusion, but when James takes him by the hips and pulls him closer it makes perfect sense.  Against the satin sheets, and it occurs to him James must have changed them because he’s fairly certain they weren’t on when he left the flat, the soft material allows him to move without any drag on his injuries and the amount of thought James put into not hurting him is as much of a turn on as anything they’ve done so far. “I fucking love you,” he says as he runs his hands along the edges of the towel. “I’d like you inside of me. Now.” He lifts his legs up and over James’ shoulders and crosses his ankles, urging James closer.

 

Q’s obvious desire makes any lingering doubts of James’ disappear. He leans down to lick and bite at each of Q’s nipples while he coats himself with more lube then rubs the head of his cock up and down over the pulsing ring of muscle until Q growls and wraps his hands around James’ thighs and tries to pull him forward. “Ready then?” he asks with a smile as he meets Q’s desperate eyes.

 

“James Bond, I swear to all the gods if you don’t get inside of me this instant I will personally ensure that you never catch another green light in your life,” Q growls in frustration, because there is a fine line between teasing and cruelty and James is definitely toeing it.

 

“As you wish,” James smirks then lines himself up, laces their fingers together above Q’s head and presses in slowly. Very, very slowly, as difficult as maintaining the necessary control is because now that he’s allowing himself to focus on the sensation it shocks him how much better it feels than with just a thin barrier separating them. Once he’s fully inside he leans his forehead against Q’s and just breathes for a moment. “I’ve never done this with anyone else. How is this so much better?” He rotates his hips experimentally and makes a truly embarrassing noise at the heightened sensations.   

 

“Neither have I. I kind of love that there are still firsts left for us,” Q replies in a wrecked sort of voice as he clenches his arse, enjoying the way James swears and his hips jerk, pushing him almost impossibly deeper.  

 

“Well, there’s always my eternal quest to reduce you to losing your ability to talk during sex,” James smirks as he pulls back with a smooth hip roll that drags his cock across Q’s prostate. He leans down to cut off Q’s undoubtedly smartass reply with a kiss as he slides back in and thinks he may just make that dream come true as well as Q whimpers into his mouth and his hands tighten reflexively beneath James’. James isn’t actually convinced he can last for hours, even going slowly, but he is resolved to try. He makes love to Q gently, never once slamming his hips forward or moving too quickly. When he feels like either of them is getting close he stops moving back and forth, just circles his hips or stops moving completely.  When he feels like Q’s focus might be slipping he maneuvers them so that he’s sitting up with Q in his lap, Q’s legs wrapped around his waist. Their fingers dig into each other’s backs and their lips never stop touching, even when they take breaks from actively kissing and just move together and share breath and it is utterly, devastatingly perfect. By the time he can’t hold back his orgasm any longer James is incapable of coherent speech so he just scratches his nails over Q’s scalp, instinctively moving to tangle his fingers in his hair before remembering it’s too short now and makes a desperate, questioning noise into Q’s mouth.

 

Q has been so close for so long that when he feels James begin to tense up and hears that deliciously uninhibited noise he is more than ready to let go himself. This time he can really pay attention to how it feels when James comes inside of him, and maybe he’s imagining it but he thinks he can actually feel it, the wet warmth of being filled, claimed, loved, and then he’s painting James’ stomach with his own release without his cock ever being touched, another rarity.  

 

James holds Q close while they recover slightly, then tips them over sideways onto the bed before reluctantly pulling out. He makes sure Q is comfortable before taking the fluffy towel and cleaning them up, wiping the soft material carefully over Q’s skin then even more gently between the cleft of his arse. Q merely sighs and remains boneless against the sheets and when James is finished he lies down and pulls on top of him so he can rest on his chest.  “That was amazing. You’d better be careful or I’ll stay retired and convince you to quit so we can just have sex all day long.” He wraps his hand gently around Q’s spent cock, just because he can. “I’m guessing you’re more tired than hungry, but after our nap and before you take me, we’re eating. I don’t want you passing out from the exertion of being on top,” James teases as he kisses Q’s temple.  

 

“Such sweet pillow talk,” Q mumbles, feeling so pleasantly sex-drunk that a nap sounds like the best idea ever.  

 

“I try,” James replies, pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed over them and letting the familiar warmth of Q’s skin, the sound of his breathing and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling lull him to sleep. His last conscious thought is that for the first time in a long time he’s actually looking forward to waking up.

 

    When James does finally wake the room is filled with the red-tinged light of sunset and Q’s skin is glowing like burnished copper, and he takes a minute to just appreciate the fact that he’s got to be the luckiest bastard alive before slipping away carefully, leaving Q asleep.  He uses the loo and cleans up a bit, then reaches into a drawer and pulls out the silicone butt plug and lube he hid there earlier. He leans forward over the sink and uses his fingers to open himself up a bit before working it in carefully, wincing a bit because it really has been far too long since he’s been filled like this. But he wants to be ready for Q because he knows he isn’t going to want to be patient, and also he doesn’t want Q to do any of the work right now. Once that’s accomplished he pads out to the kitchen, allowing his body to adjust to the intrusion and grinning at the spectacular mess then deciding he’ll deal with it tomorrow. He slips on shoes and crunches over the shattered glass to dig out paper plates and warms up the Thai. He deliberately saved two mugs, so he gets them out and makes tea as well before going back to wake up Q.  

 

Q stretches languidly when he feels James’ hands running gently over his skin and opens his eyes to see James framed against the red light of sunset and his breath catches at how otherworldly he looks. He feels an odd sense of longing even though James is right here touching him, so he sits up slowly and wraps his arms around James’ waist and tucks his head into the crook of his neck and just breathes him in, running his fingers over solid muscle and warm skin and letting himself believe that for once James isn’t going anywhere.  

 

“I missed you too,” James says, holding Q tight until he feels him relax. “I got dinner ready. Want to go wash up first?”

 

“Yeah, I think I’d better.” He sits back and stretches again before standing. “I’d stay in bed, but I’m really looking forward to non-cafeteria food,” he says as he stomach rumbles.  

 

“No more cafeteria food for months. I can’t wait to get you back to Skye. A few weeks of Molly’s food and some exercise and we’ll have you back to your usual self again.”

 

“Do I really look that bad?” Q asks, mostly just to watch James’ reaction since he doubts James realizes just how that sounded.

 

“No! It’s not that I don’t think you look good now. I’m not trying to say- I don’t mean to sound like I’m controlling-” James rubs the back of his neck distractedly. “Sometimes I just shouldn’t talk, huh?”

 

“It’s fine, I know what you mean. I could stand to put on some weight, and you’ll make sure I get plenty of exercise,” he says with a wicked grin before he walks out of the room.

 

James experiences a rush of desire at the look on Q’s face, then a spike of pleasure shoots through him as his arse clenches reflexively around the plug. He gets up and puts on the robe from behind the door so Q won’t notice it, and grabs Q’s as well then goes to pour the tea and set the food out on the little table in front of the couch since clearly the kitchen is out of service for the time being.

 

Q eyes the damage speculatively as he slips on the proffered robe then sits next to James. “You know, that was way more fun to do than it’s going to be to clean up.”

 

“I’ll do it tomorrow, don’t worry. I think you’ve got quite enough cuts already without risking any more,” James tells Q as he hands him a fork.

 

“I’m really not going to fight you on that one,” Q replies with a relieved smile before taking a bit of his Pad Thai. “Oh my god that’s good,” he moans, eyes closing in appreciation.

 

“I think I’m actually jealous of food right now,” James teases, watching Q chew with a blissful look on his face.

 

      “Oh, you should be,” Q states with a smile. “I may leave you for whoever cooked this.”  

 

“Well I’ll just have to remind you that I can cook too. Once I go shopping that is. I’m not sure I can accomplish wonders with a few condiments and a stray can of condensed milk.”

 

“Sounds amazing. Will you cook naked in just an apron so I can watch?” Q asks with a sly grin.

 

“Absolutely,” James agrees with a wink. They share the rest of the meal in silence that is almost as comfortable as their silences used to be, though there is still enough left unsaid that it doesn’t feel completely normal. James doesn’t want to ruin Q’s happy mood, but at the same time he thinks it’s probably a good time to get him talking again. “I have an idea.”

 

“Okay...” Q looks at James warily, sensing the serious shift in his demeanor.

 

“Nothing bad, don’t worry. I just know we have a lot to talk about still and I think it would be a good idea if we each say one thing that’s on our mind a few times a day. Just one thing each, no more. That way we won’t get overwhelmed and afterwards we can reward ourselves with really good sex. Not that I want to make being back together all about sex, because it’s not. God, that sounded bad. I’m done again,” he says, hiding his face in his hands.  Why does he have to be so spectacularly bad at this communication thing?

 

“I think...I think that’s a good idea actually,” Q agrees. “The talking part and the sex part.”

 

“Really?” James looks up at Q searchingly. “Okay. I’ll go first. I’m sorry I hurt you just for being kind to me when I had cast on. I felt useless. You were still working, and I felt like I was just making you come home and work more. Doing the shopping, most of the cleaning, bringing me coffee because I kept spilling it when I tried to hop around to get it. I felt like- well, I still feel like- you’re always the one doing the caretaking. It was like that when we first met, and you take care of me when I’m out in the field, and I just assumed you were sick of it. That you were just pretending to be nice but really you were bitter about having to take care of me yet again, and it made me angry at myself- angry in general- and you were the only one around to be on the receiving end of it.”

 

“I wasn’t sick of it. When you love someone that’s what you do, James. It’s not like there’s a score sheet going.”

 

“I know. I know that now. You’ve just so rarely needed any real taking care of that I didn’t stop to think what it would feel like from your side of things. But now...I know I could never get sick of taking care of you. I like how it makes me feel needed, and it makes me happy to help you because I love you and I don’t feel bitter about it or like you owe me anything. And I’m sorry I didn’t understand that before so I behaved like a complete bastard.”

 

“That actually makes a strange sort of sense. I didn’t know you felt that way, I just thought you didn’t want me around.”

 

“I will always want you around. It’s disturbing how badly, actually. It ah, well it scares me to need you as much as I do after so many years of telling myself I didn’t need anyone.”

 

“Well the feeling is mutual, so I think you’re okay there. I’m not going anywhere. I’d say I just fairly well proved that,” Q says as he laces their fingers together. “Okay, my turn. I know this isn’t something you struggle with, maybe you never did and that’s why you’re so good at what you do, but...fuck, killing is horrible, James.” Q shivers and James tightens his grip on his hand. “The feeling of that knife sliding into Mason was awful. It didn’t go in easily, I had to push past the muscle and the wet sound of it, the smell of all that blood was- then again into his neck and it felt like someone else was doing it. Like I was just watching myself watch him bleed out and I didn’t even care at the time- I was just cold, shut down, inhuman. You can argue all you want about finishing him off, but I killed him. And yeah he was a terrible person and he wanted to rape me and I’m not sad he’s dead because he should be, no one who would do that should be allowed to live, but killing him was still horrible. And Smith- well I barely remember that, I was too high on adrenaline and fear and all I remember is the awful sound she made. And I know anyone would tell me she deserved it, and she probably did- but I don’t like being the one to take another person’s death into my own hands. I would do it again to have you safe and back with me, but I can’t bring myself to feel good about it. And you probably think I’m being ridiculous, just two people when you’ve killed so many you’ve probably lost count and you’re not having routine breakdowns over it.”  

 

“I don’t think you’re being ridiculous. You’re just a better man than I am, Q, and you still possess a conscience when it comes to killing. It’s a good thing. Actually I’d be seriously worried about you if you just brushed this off like it was nothing, because the fact that it hurts, that you feel sick over it, means you’re still undamaged by this life. Working for MI6 tends to desensitize people, make them think lightly of human life, but you still care and that’s good.  It’s healthy. I’m probably not the right person to offer you any real advice, but that’s what the therapists are there for.  Or someone else you trust.  Eve maybe?  She decided field work and the killing that comes along with it wasn’t for her either, so she would understand. I would love to be able to help you more, but all I can do is hold you through the nightmares if they come and listen when you want to talk. I promise I will never make light of anything you tell me.”

 

“You’d really be okay if I start seeing a shrink?”

 

James sighs, irritated with himself. “I’m sorry for giving you the impression I find them useless. I know they’re not and it wouldn’t bother me at all if you want to find a therapist you work well with.  Or just arrange weekly drinks with Eve, whatever you want.  Hell, just being in a relationship with me will give you plenty to discuss,” James says, leaning in to kiss Q lightly.

 

“You’re not wrong,” Q agrees with a smile, feeling immensely relieved. “Are we done with the serious conversation part of this evening now?” he asks, moving his hand down to pull at the tie on James’ robe.  

 

“I think we are, yes. And I have plans for the rest it,” James purrs into Q’s ear, allowing Q to open his robe. He returns the favor then moves to straddle Q, letting his own robe drop to the floor before sliding his fingers into Q’s short hair and kissing him as he shifts so that he can feel Q’s cock stir to life against his own.

 

Q’s hips buck up into the pressure and he moans into James’ mouth, wondering if James would mind if they stayed like this because suddenly the idea of moving all the way to the bedroom sounds like far too much work. Though he supposes they will have to move to track down some lube. Until he feels James press a tube into his hand and where was he hiding that? Probably beneath a couch cushion, the brilliant man. Q smiles against James’ mouth then nips at his lower lip as he coats his fingers and slides his hand down between the cheeks of James’ criminally muscular arse. He experiences a moment of disorientation when his fingers meet with something solid, and then a surge of ‘holy fucking hell that’s hot’ goes straight to his cock as he realizes what it is. He takes the end of the plug between his fingers and pulls on it gently, causing James to jerk his hips forward and hiss with pleasure. “Have I told you lately that I fucking love you?” Q breathes, carefully twisting and sliding the plug out with one hand then replacing it immediately with two lube-coated fingers.  

 

James groans and pushes back as Q’s fingers breach him with very little effort and he wants more, for Q to be inside of him right now. “Please just get inside me already,” he growls, knowing it turns Q on since he very rarely begs for anything. He lifts up as he holds out his hand and Q squeezes lube onto it, eyes wide with desire. Q’s head falls back against the couch and his eyes close when James spreads it over his erection and runs his hand up and down it a few times, getting him fully hard. “Look at me,” James requests. Once Q’s eyes are locked with his own he holds Q’s cock steady and slides down onto it slowly until his arse is flush with Q’s thighs and it’s almost too much; the heat and the stretch and the slight pain combine to have him feeling like he’s flying and he hasn’t even started moving.

 

    Q’s fingers dig into James’ hips hard enough that he’ll leave marks but James just parts his lips and sucks in a shuddering breath and his eyes are saying ‘yes, more.’. Q grips him even tighter and shifts his hips and the noise James makes is low and dirty and gorgeous, he’s so hot and tight. Q’s universe narrows to nothing but this as James begins to work himself up and down in maddeningly slow movements, never breaking eye contact. “God, this does feel better. We’re doing it this way from now on. You can tell M he can find another agent to fuck the information out of his targets,” Q orders, his voice possessive and rough.

 

Instead of replying James presses down into Q’s lap, rolls his hips in slow circles and wraps his hands around the back of Q’s head so he can kiss him fiercely, hoping that’s answer enough for now because god does he want that, but he’s in no state of mind to promise anything right now. Especially when Q begins making desperate, needy sounds, biting at his lips and clawing at James’ back and trying to make James move faster, deeper, and any thoughts of slow, gentle sex vanish with Q’s obvious desire for something more intense. Still, he’s careful to slide his hands under Q’s arms and up around his shoulders so he can hold his back away from the couch and prevent too much friction against his injuries.  Only then does he begin to move in earnest, ignoring the eventual shaking of his thighs and the burn in his abs from keeping up the fast, rocking motion after going so long without practice. It’s worth the slight ache in his muscles to feel Q fall apart beneath him, to feel him so alive and wanting and as close as humanly possible. He had been planning to drag this out, but it doesn’t feel like Q is going to last long and right now he doesn’t want to deny Q anything so he doesn’t slow down when he feels the telltale tensing of Q’s muscles and the hard bite to his jaw, he just takes Q as deep as he can and clenches down around him and that’s all it takes.  

 

Q digs his fingers into James’ back and licks over the bite mark he just left as he rides out the aftermath of his orgasm, still buried inside of James, and the intense feeling of connection afterwards is amazing. He leans back and slides a hand around to begin stroking James’ still-hard length, loving the way James tightens around him and makes incoherent noises of pleasure until white strings coat Q’s hand his cock finally slips out of James as his arse clenches with his release. Q wipes his hand on his robe, too lazy bother licking it clean.

 

 “Did I hurt you?” James asks when he can finally speak again. “I wasn’t planning on being quite so enthusiastic, but you don’t exactly make it easy to hold back.”

 

“I’m fine, James. I have a few scratches, it’s hardly as bad as half the injuries you’ve come home with.” He kisses James lightly, wishing he would stop worrying so much.  

 

“True, but I’m not used to you being the one who's hurt. I’m starting to understand why you act like such a mother hen every time I come home banged up and I’m not sure what to do with the feeling,” he admits, drawing a finger along Q’s cheekbone.

 

“Welcome to my world,” Q replies with a smile. “Just so you know, my world involves a lot of tea.”

 

“Well as long as we can drink the tea in bed, preferably naked, I’ll figure out a way to make it work. Tired?”  

 

“Not really.”

 

“So how about, tea, in bed, naked, with a movie?”  James gets up, stretches, and holds out his hand to Q.  

 

“Perfect. I could get used to this whole vacation thing. M better watch out or I may just retire as well,” Q says as he gets up and lets James lead him into their bedroom, reflecting that he’s really only half joking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all probably noticed this turned into a co-authored work : ) The amazing Hedwig_Dordt jumped in to help when I was running out of steam from writing these two for so long! So this became a joint labor of love and her additions have made this chapter just as awesome as it can be. We have one more chapter coming that will be the fun and craziness of their European road trip. So feel free to say hi to Hedwig in the comments too, and over on her tumblr with the same url. I know it has been over a month since I updated so thank you, dear readers, for not giving up on this story! We made it nice and long at least. The entire scene with Q in his exotic outfit and the ensuing porn are dedicated to Jennybel75 for sending me the amazing, inspiring picture!

    They spend the first day back at their flat trying to make it habitable again. Since neither of them took much when they left there isn’t anything major to unpack, but there are some truly disturbing dust bunnies to be taken care of. Q declares war on them while James deals with the situation in the kitchen.

 

    James watches Q, who is lounging on the couch holding a dust rag and swiping it vaguely over the same small area of the coffee table as he smirks at the crunching sound James’ shoes make on the glass-covered tile. “I don’t know, my bet is on the dust bunnies at this point,” James comments fondly as he uses a towel to drag the glass from the counter into a dustbin.  

 

    “I’m giving them a sporting chance is all,” Q replies unrepentantly.  “They can strategize while I’m busy gathering my strength. Clarence looks like he could put up a bit of a fight.”

 

    “Clarence?”  

 

    “That’s what I named the particularly large cluster of dust beneath the recliner.”

 

“Q?”

 

“Yes James?”

 

“I really missed you.”  

 

    Even though they are both happy to be back together, being in each other’s space still takes some re-adjustment. The first time they are at the sink brushing their teeth they knock the toothbrush holder onto the tile, breaking it, because they both reach for it at the same time.  James almost knocks Q over in the kitchen when they step back out of synch, both of them heading for something on opposite ends of the room. On at least one occasion each they only brew one cup of tea since their morning autopilot settings haven’t adjusted to no longer being alone. Somehow though, these little mishaps make everything better because it feels even more like starting over again instead of just picking up where they left off and a fresh start is exactly what they need.  

 

Over the week they spend in their flat while Q heals enough to travel comfortably they do manage to have significant conversations between episodes of Dr. Who, Q getting James addicted to building lego-style worlds in Minecraft, and lots of time spent naked.  By the time they are finalizing their packing and plans to leave for Skye the next day their silences are back to being comfortable.

 

Q is on the couch placing their online grocery order along with a few other special items and plans to have it all delivered to MI6 headquarters, where they will be leaving by a chartered helicopter the next day.  He argued against flying, but the other alternative is far too many hours in a car to be comfortable so he finally gave in.  He looks up when James wanders over from the kitchen, distracting him by looking sinfully delicious in nothing but an apron.

 

James holds out a steaming mug of Earl Grey with a proud smile.  “Here you go love, I remembered.”

 

Q takes the mug and tilts his head up for a kiss that ends up being just as distracting as James himself. He shifts the laptop in his lap, suddenly extremely conscious of the fact that he’s not wearing anything either.

 

James pulls away reluctantly then whispers, “Don’t forget the blueberries,” into Q’s ear before returning to the kitchen to finish their stir fry.  

 

Q watches in appreciation as James walks away, his arse gloriously bared with the apron ties dangling enticingly over the left cheek. He grins and adds blueberries to the order before sending it then shutting the laptop and setting it aside. “So...who wants to be the one to call Molly and let her know we’ll be visiting and why you want her to cook for us? Actually, you’re the one intent on fattening me up so really I think it’s only fair you take that one on,” he says with a smirk.

 

James turns towards Q and gives him a look that appears considering but Q knows to be the patented 007, ‘How can I get out of this?’ look. “Well if you think about it, you have the tactical advantage of bringing out her mothering side. She’s far less likely throw a fit so loud we’ll hear it from here if you talk to her, right?”

 

“Well we both know she’s going to let you have it.  Wouldn’t it be nicer to get it over with on the phone than in person?  This way you’re out of range of her wooden spoons at least,” Q replies with a grin.

 

James turns off the stove then prowls back over to Q, watching in amusement as his eyes go slightly unfocused when James unties the top half of the apron and lets it fall so that he’s basically wearing only a loincloth. He straddles Q’s lap and settles lightly on his thighs, careful to keep most of his weight off of Q’s still-sensitive skin. “I’m sure we can come up with some way to settle this diplomatically,” James purrs, lifting slightly and angling himself forward so that his soft cock rests over Q’s. His stomach does a little flip when Q’s breath hitches and he moves his hands reflexively forward to clutch at James’ waist. James hides an evil smile by leaning in to suck on Q’s earlobe as he swivels his hips almost imperceptibly. The knowledge that Q loves to feel them growing hard against each other is a new discovery and James has been gleefully using it to his advantage for the past few days.  

 

“I’ve seen your idea of diplomacy,” Q pants, “and it usually involves my covering up the destruction of a few thousand square meters.”  

 

“You wound me Q.” James manages to sound affronted through his grin. He spots Q’s mobile half-hidden beneath a throw pillow and reaches for it, distracting Q with a bite to his jaw.  “I only resort to extreme measures when absolutely necessary.” He holds the mobile up behind Q’s head and pulls up Molly’s number then hits the call button. “It’s necessary,” he says as he pulls back and hits the speakerphone button.  

 

For a moment Q just blinks in confusion because he thought this was heading somewhere good. Then the ringing sound of an outgoing call registers and his eyes dart over to the mobile James is holding out of his reach then up to the absolute shit-eating grin on James’ face. “Oh you will pay for this,” Q manages to growl before Molly’s cheerful voice comes across the line.  

 

_“Well there you are! I was getting worried about you Alex. It’s been what? Six months at least! I should put you over my knee!”_

 

“Molly, hi. I’ve told you you can call me Artemis if you want,” Q says, still glaring at James.

 

_“Oh that’s right! I just got so used to Alex. How are you? And how is your young devil, James?”_

 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?  He’s right here. He’s actually the one who wanted to talk to you about something.” He grins at the accusing look on James’ face.  

 

“Hello there Molly. Lovely to hear your voice again.”

 

_“Uh-oh. What did you do this time?”_

 

“What makes you think I did anything?” James asks innocently.

 

_“I’d recognize the universal tone of a man who’s prepared to deliver news worthy of a raw backside anywhere. I’m old, not stupid. So, out with it!”_

 

James takes a deep breath before he begins. “Well, first of all I wanted you to know we’ll be coming to stay for a few weeks. We’ll be there tomorrow evening.”

 

_“Starting with the good news first are you? This should be extra good.”_

 

James cringes slightly. “Well I was hoping I could pay you to make dinner for us during our stay. I can just come pick up whatever you’re serving if it’s easiest. Although I was hoping for some of your beef stew at some point.”

 

_“I’d love to dearie. But why are home cooked meals so important this time? You never asked on your other visits.”_ Her tone is distinctly suspicious.

 

“Well ah, Artemis may have sort of gotten himself a little bit...um...forced-into-hiding-for-a-few-months-then-injured-in-the-line-of-duty.”  Molly’s sharp intake of breath on the other line has him rushing to explain. “He’s okay!  Well, he’s rather covered in plasters at the moment but I’m taking care of him and he really just needs some good food to put some weight back on and lots of love and rest.”  

 

_“Oh Artemis love I’m so sorry!  Don’t worry, I’ll have you fattened up by the time you leave.  But I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I know James would never have let this happen if he was there to prevent it. There’s something big I’m missing here.”_

 

“Damn you’re good,” James sighs. “We’ll explain it all when we get there. We’ll be arriving by helicopter probably around five so feel free to stop over tomorrow evening.  We’re having supplies delivered so don’t worry, we’ll be able to eat when you’re not feeding us.”

 

_“Oh, I’ll be feeding you all right. Tomorrow evening you said? Do you want me to drop by the day after?”_

 

“That would be wonderful.”

 

_“Good, I’ll rustle something up. I’ll see you two then and you’d better be ready to explain yourselves.”_

 

“You’re a godsend, Molly.” And with that, James rings off. “Happy now?”

 

“Yes.” Q grins and pushes his hips up teasingly. “Not as happy as I could be though...” James rolls his eyes and lifts himself off of Q’s lap. “And I thought I was bad. No sex until you’ve eaten.” James tries to sound stern but fails horribly. He can’t even fake being irritated with Q yet; he’s still too relieved to have him back. And Q knows it, the little shit.

 

“There are too many awful comebacks running through my mind to pick one,” Q laughs, reaching out to pinch James’ arse as he walks away.

 

“I’m dating a teenager,” James gripes with a smile as he pulls out the new flatware Q ordered for them.  

 

“That must be why I’m ready for more sex and you probably can’t even get it back up yet.  I mean, it’s only been a few hours since I woke you up with a blow job.” He sighs dramatically.  “I suppose that’s what I get for taking such an old man as my lover.”

 

“Old man?” James serves stir fry onto each of their plates and brings them over to the couch, handing one to Q. “I believe it’s been you trying to keep up with me more often than the other way around. And you haven’t exactly complained about my...experience.  After all, youth is no guarantee of innovation,” he says with a sly smile.

 

“God, how much did I want to drag you behind the nearest statue and snog you senseless that day in the museum. Even though you were rude to me and looked like hell, quite frankly.” Q sighs dramatically: “ Apparently I was doomed from the start.”

 

James feels a sudden rush of affection as he recalls their first meeting. “I probably would have let you, but I’m glad you didn’t because it might have messed everything up between us and that doesn’t even bear thinking about.” He leans in and kisses Q lightly. “Now eat so I can erase that uncharacteristic bout of sappiness with some tricks I’ve learned in my long years of life. Have I ever shown you my favorite alternate uses for Nutella?”  He winks at Q then goes back to eating, amused when Q begins chewing at twice his usual speed.

 

   Half an hour later Q is spread out beneath James, whimpering as his obscenely talented lover demonstrates exactly how far from an ‘old man’ he is. “Fuck, fuck, James that’s perfect,” Q grits out as his cock is surrounded by the tight heat of James’ body while James licks Nutella off of his nipples, his collarbone, then finally his lips. He can feel James’ control slipping and it’s an amazing feeling knowing he’s the only one capable of making James let go enough to shut down his constant awareness of everything going on around him.  

 

James laces their fingers together and pins Q’s hands above his head as he sucks the sweetness off of Q’s tongue. He settles onto Q’s thighs and clenches his arse, reveling in the full-body shiver it induces in Q and fucking hell it feels good. It’s been a week of sex at least twice a day and he still wants this so much that even having Q inside of him does little to quiet his desire. Then all conscious thought leaves him and he is nothing more than a conduit for sensations: Q’s fingers tightening against his own, the drops of sweat sliding down his curved spine, incoherent noises of pleasure, the drag of Q’s hard length inside of him, heat and slick and the clacking of teeth and instinctual rocking of his hips, his own cock bumping against his stomach and then the spiraling bliss of an approaching orgasm. He doesn’t want to let go of Q’s hands so he chases the sensation instead, tilting his hips and driving himself harder, deeper, desperate as Q moans and arches and shudders beneath him and James can feel Q’s cock twitching inside of him just before his own release hits. His subconscious protective instinct is all that prevents him from collapsing on top of Q. For a few moments he can’t do anything more than fold himself carefully down, lying across Q’s chest and mouthing at the salty skin of his throat as his breathing slowly returns to normal.

 

Q slips his hands out of James’ and moves them down to his back, holding him close and making mindless circles over his slick skin. “That was...god, how is it possible that it keeps getting better?” He slides one hand down between them and James honest to god whimpers when Q swipes his fingers over the head of his spent cock then sucks the flavor off. “You came without being touched. Damn I’m good,” he mumbles into James’ hair.

 

“You really are,” James concedes, still too sex-drunk to feel like moving despite the stickiness between their bodies.

 

“No smartarse comeback? Wow, you really are gone, huh?” Q says affectionately, running his hands through James’ hair. James huffs but doesn’t move, so Q just enjoys being tangled up with the man he loves. He’s happy that James has stopped treating him like he’s made of the most fragile glass known to man. Then he remembers that today he gets to remove the plasters and take a real shower as opposed to the frequent and meticulous sponge baths and hair washes in the sink James has been giving him all week. After a few minutes he pokes James’ arse. “Hey, I just realised I can have an actual shower! You haven’t kissed me under the water in months,” he adds with more than a hint of seduction despite his sated state.

 

“Hmm...that’s probably the only offer that could get me to move right now,” James rumbles as he rolls off of Q to lean on one elbow and look down at him. Q looks gloriously well-fucked and James can’t resist running his hands through the mop of hair dark hair that still manages to look like a mess despite being significantly shorter than usual. “Let me get these off. I’ll be careful,” he promises as he reaches for one of the rubbery plasters over Q’s ribs. He loosens it cautiously at the edge then peels it off slowly, relieved when it comes away fairly easily. The old welt beneath is still pink, but it’s fading and is no longer raised and appears to be healing well. James leans in and presses his lips to it softly before moving on to the next plaster.

 

Q watches fondly as James carefully removes each of the plasters and kisses the healing skin beneath. He doesn’t offer to help because this seems like something James needs to do as part of his own healing process. When there are no more on his front James urges him onto his stomach and gently removes the plasters on his back with the same meticulous care before letting Q sit up and swing his legs over edge of the bed. He stands and holds his hand out to James. “Thank you. How do I look?” he asks, feeling like he should give James an opening to talk about the marks if if he wants to.  

 

“You look gorgeous. Attention hungry much?” James teases lightly as he stands and kisses Q’s forehead before taking his hand and leading him to the shower. He’s relieved that Q really does look like he’s healing well and none of the marks should scar, though it will take weeks for them to fade completely.

 

Q just shrugs and swings his hips in an exaggerated fashion as he follows James, who gets distracted and backs straight into the doorjamb. Q laughs as James swears and rubs the back of his head. “See, this is why I really should put security cameras in here. No one would believe me if I told them the great 007 can be as clumsy as the rest of us,” Q smirks as he steps past James and goes to turn on the shower.  

 

“That’s because you’re a bloody gorgeous, distracting menace,” James replies, reaching out to smack Q’s arse playfully as he leans against the sink and watches him fiddle with the taps until he is satisfied with the water temperature.

 

“Well there is that,” Q agrees as he steps into the water. He sighs in appreciation as the warm water cascades down his body. A few of the marks sting a bit but it’s worth it to finally get to feel completely clean again. He closes his eyes and turns his face into the spray just as James’ arms wrap around his waist. He leans back against James’ chest and tilts his head back for a kiss.

 

James is more than happy to give Q what he wants. He licks his way into Q’s mouth and urges him to turn around, a move they’ve long since perfected and doesn’t require him to break the kiss. He shifts them so the water isn’t threatening to drown them and revels in the feeling of Q’s body wet and slick against his own and he really has missed this. He pulls away so he can grab the expensive citrusy soap Q orders from some specialty shop and washes Q gently, using his hands instead of a cloth because he wants to feel the healing wounds and make sure none of them need extra care.

 

So soon after their last release Q knows neither of them is feeling especially interested in sex, but the feeling of skin against skin is still amazing. He lets James wash him, sensing again that he shouldn’t make a move to do it himself. When James is finished he returns the favor then they spend long minutes doing nothing more than running their hands over each other and mouthing at convenient bits of skin. Even though they’ve done this countless times it feels incredible, though Q supposes they’re in a second sort of honeymoon phase in their relationship. Still, he thinks that twenty years down the road he still won’t be tired of this. “I think my skin has had about all it can take for now,” Q admits reluctantly as a few areas on his back get a bit too sensitive under the water pressure.

 

James immediately turns off the water. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. Better than, so don’t worry. I feel better than I have all week now that I’m rid of those irritating plasters.” He steps out of the shower after James and resists the urge to mention he can do some things for himself when James grabs a fluffy towel and begins drying him off carefully, ignoring the way his own body is dripping water all over the floor.

 

“The wounds are healing well though, so it looks like it was worth the week you were stuck wearing them. Huh, maybe I should listen to medical once in a while. I’d probably have fewer scars.” He finishes drying Q then grabs his own towel. “So, back to packing? At this rate we’ll be lucky to be done by morning.”  

 

    “I’m fairly certain I didn’t start it this time,” Q observes with a smile as he slips on his robe and holds James’ out for him to take when he’s dry.  

 

“Have you seen you yourself lately? You always start it,” James counters as he takes the robe and slips it on, not bothering to tie it.  

 

“Nope. Awful line penalty. See, that’s another reason for the cameras. Proof that James Bond has lines as terrible as the rest of us. Even Eve won’t believe me on that one.”  

 

“You’re really not making a very strong case here,” James points out.  

 

“I must be slipping. I usually remember to ask for things within two minutes of you coming. Far higher margin for success that way.” He grins, dodging James’ attempt at smacking his arse before running out the door.

 

The next morning Q is standing in front of the helicopter, trying to convince himself to get in and wishing he could convince himself to stop being so afraid of flying. But come on- who wouldn’t be afraid of hovering hundreds of kilometers over the ground in a tiny metal box? Crazy people that’s who, he decides, watching in envy as James tosses his bag in and jumps in after it, his body telegraphing nothing but excitement. He takes a deep breath and follows, taking James’ offered hand and climbing in with distinctly less grace.  

 

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll keep you distracted,” James promises as he moves to sit on the bench- it’s a smaller chopper than last time- and pats the seat next to him. Q sits, scooting close so he can lean on James’ shoulder and lace their fingers together to hold on tight as they take off. James keeps his promise, and the helicopter lands in their front yard on Skye after an uneventful flight that had Q clenching his hands only mildly by the end. James inspects the half-moons in his palms. Thank god the rest of the trip will be by car.  

 

When they arrive James drags their bags and the crate of groceries in while Q opens the house back up. It feels rather stuffy inside after being closed up for so long so Q goes around opening windows before getting all the systems turned back on again. By the time he comes back into the kitchen James has most of the food unpacked and is sitting on the kitchen table, swinging his legs and inspecting the contents of a box.  

 

James looks up at Q and gives him a sly grin as he reaches into the box and pulls out a bottle of blueberry flavored lube. “So apparently you ordered dessert as well,” he smirks, amused when Q actually blushes.

 

“I thought we could use some new things considering that most of our old things are...a bit much for me still.” He tries to consider even something simple like nipple clamps and decides that no, even the idea of pleasurable pain is still uncomfortable. He walks over to James, steps between his legs and kisses him lightly.

 

“I’m right there with you on that one,” James replies. “But before we try this out I’m making us something for dinner.  I’m sure you’re itching to go get command central over there up and running again so you do that and I’ll try not to burn the steaks.” He pushes Q good-naturedly in the direction of his computers then goes to make dinner, already considering the potential uses of blueberry lube. He manages not to burn dinner, but it’s a near thing once he digs deeper into the box and gets further distracted by a bundle of sleek black material with some bits of leather and buckles. He decides not to bring it up and just let Q show him when he’s ready,even if his curiosity is killing him because it has to be some sort of outfit and Q has never displayed an interest in costumes before. James has never thought about him in any sort of fetish wear but he’s definitely thinking about it now.  

 

Q tries to maintain an innocent face while they eat, despite the temptation to tease James about his failed attempt at nonchalance regarding the mysterious bundle he knows James must have found. Sometimes, messing with the man is just too easy. When Q finally puts his fork down James pounces, spinning Q’s chair to the side so he can straddle his lap.  “Ready to break our bed back in?” he purrs, nibbling at Q’s earlobe and swiveling his hips so Q can feel that he’s already hard in anticipation.

 

“God yes. Grab our dessert why don’t you?” he suggests as he pushes James off playfully. “I’m kind of curious to see what uses you’ve come up with for it,” he says as he walks towards the stairs, pulling off his t-shirt and tossing it on the ground behind him.  

 

A short time later they are both naked and tangled up in each other, covered in sticky sweet lube and laughing harder than they have in ages. “I’m sorry,” James pants, “but really, your arse tasted like weirdly chemical blueberries!” He breaks out into a fresh bout of laughter when Q snorts and shakes with mirth on top of him.

 

“Oh my god, so did your cock but I was just trying to go along with it! Oh ow my abs!  Seriously, who uses this stuff? Cheap hookers?” He raises his head to look at James and is seized with a urge to kiss him senseless because the smile lines on his face are all crinkled up and his eyes are damp from laughing so hard and he looks completely happy and absolutely breathtaking. When Q finally comes up for air he grabs James’ hair hard with one hand and drags his nails down James’ neck with the other and murmurs, “Now fuck me you gorgeous bastard,” against his mouth and suddenly the atmosphere is anything but playful.  

 

James goes from half-hard to painfully erect faster than he can remember because Q’s voice is low and dark and it’s a clear invitation to stop being quite as gentle as he’s been all week. He reaches down between them and slips one finger inside of Q, suddenly not caring about the awful tasting lube, especially when Q whines and presses back, begging for more contact. James isn’t taking the time to look for anything else, so he stops long enough to squirt some more into his hand and coats his cock and fingers, pressing two inside of Q with very little resistance. Q makes another approving noise from deep in his beautifully arched throat and James leans in to bite at the tempting curve beneath his Adam’s apple. He is so focused on the way Q’s body is opening for him, the passion in his movements that he is caught completely by surprise when Q lifts up and off of his fingers. Before he can react Q’s hand wraps around the base of his erection and a second later Q lowers himself down until his arse is flush with James’ thighs. James gasps and clutches at Q’s hips. “Fucking hell Q! That’s...are you...”  

 

Every muscle in Q’s body spasms as he seats himself completely onto James’ cock and it’s almost too intense, almost too much but not quite. It’s everything. It’s perfect. “More,” he growls, curving down to bite James’ lower lip as he braces his hands against the headboard and snaps his hips up then back, driving James even deeper. James’ fingers dig into his hips deep enough to leave marks and Q feels no hesitance or fear, nothing but desire because this is just the two of them. No one else. Never again. He covers James’ mouth with his own and moves his hands down to curl around James’ shoulders and hold him close as he moves above him and a few more invisible scars fade away. It isn’t until he’s ridden out their eventual orgasms and is feeling secure and loved with his head pillowed on James’ chest that he realizes the salt he’s tasting isn’t from sweat.

 

James doesn’t comment on Q’s tears because he can tell they weren’t caused by pain.  Also, because he doesn’t currently trust his own voice. Instead, he holds Q tight and tries to maintain his composure but it’s difficult since he doesn’t have much experience with what to do when you are this crazy in love with someone.

 

They lie there for a long time before Q finally sits up.  He runs his fingers through the sweat on James’ chest.  “I think it’s time for that bath now.”

 

“Sounds amazing,” James agrees, searching Q’s face for signs he wants to talk about anything, relieved to find none. It’s unfamiliar enough to feel as sappy as he does without having to constantly verbalize it as well.

 

They fill the bath with hot water and climb in and Q immediately snuggles back against James’ chest. He runs his fingers over James’ skin aimlessly, sighing in contentment when James does the same. The water feels amazing and he decides he wants to do this every night. “I’m glad we’re here,” he says, drawing James’ hand up to his lips for a brief kiss. “Lets not stay away so long from now on.”  

 

“Definitely not.” James reaches over for the bottle of shampoo. “Now tilt your head back so I can wash your hair.” He begins massaging the lather in, smiling when Q relaxes even more. “I miss your long hair,” James muses aloud. A second later he realizes that came out a bit controlling. “But you can do what you want. Obviously.”

 

“Don’t worry, I miss it too. I’ve grown rather attached to you tangling your fingers into it.”

 

“That makes two of us,” James admits, pulling on the dark strands gently as he nips at the shell of Q’s ear.

 

“Down boy, I’m in lounging mode not sex mode,” Q says, smacking James’ thigh.  

 

“I know, so am I. But sometimes I like my lounging to include a little biting.”

 

“You’re hopeless.”

 

“There is that,” James concedes, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the edge of the tub.  

 

They finally get out when the water is well on its way to cool then dry off and wander into the bedroom, not bothering with putting anything on. Q pulls the blankets back and scoots over to his side of the bed and when James gets in Q arranges them so James is spooned up in front of him. “Feel like a movie?  It’s still early and I’m not tired enough to sleep yet.”

 

“Sounds good.” James bends his knees and backs up, slotting his body up closer against Q’s and shifting back into him as they shuffle around so they can see the TV. James stretches to reach the remote and presses the power button. After fruitlessly pressing buttons for a few moments he huffs and passes it back to Q. “I swear it’s easier to program a missile launch than to operate this fucking thing.”  

 

Q laughs and takes the remote. “Well I have to maintain the balance of power somehow. Is there something you want to see?”

 

“Depends. Are we actually going to watch it?”  

 

“I think so. I’m pretty much too lazy for any more sex tonight.”

 

“Then let’s watch that sunshine movie you were trying to get me to watch right after I had my cast put on but I was too busy being a pain in the arse to agree.”

 

“‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?’ Really?”

 

“You sounded excited about it so I’d like to see it, yeah.”

 

“Okay. No falling asleep though, you have to pay attention or you’ll get confused.” Q brings up the movie and presses play.

 

James takes Q’s hand and laces their fingers together then presses it against his chest.  “No falling asleep. I promise.”  

 

Q kisses the back of James’ neck before grabbing a pillow to prop his head up on so he can see the screen better.  “Good.”  

 

James does manage to stay awake and is surprised at how much he enjoys the movie and its interesting concept.  The main thing he takes away is how lucky he is that Q puts up with him when he is so much more of a romantic than James is. When the movie ends James turns to Q, thinking maybe he’ll want to talk about it, and finds that Q is the one who fell asleep.  James smiles and turns the TV off, twists enough to kiss Q softly then follows him into sleep.

 

When Q wakes up the bedroom is already fully light and he glances at the clock, shocked to see that he slept until nearly nine. James is gone, but that isn’t surprising since he isn’t as prone to just lying in bed as Q is if there isn’t sex to be had. Q sits up and stretches languidly, smiling when he smells fresh coffee and bacon. He wanders over to the loo then slips a robe on before going downstairs, stomach rumbling in anticipation.  

 

“There you are Sleeping Beauty, I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to go wake you up with a kiss,” James grins as he pours a cup of tea then hands it to Q.

 

“I’m not awake enough to deal with your awful lines yet,” Q groans as he takes the mug and sits on a barstool at the island.

 

“You love my awful lines,” James retorts, reaching out to swat Q’s thigh with a spatula.

 

“I love you,” Q corrects. “Your awful lines were just one of those unavoidable ‘gift with purchase’ type of things. Like when you buy a toaster and they inexplicably throw in a keychain.” He laughs and ducks when James throws a towel at him.  

 

“Fine,” James gripes good-naturedly. “But you do love my pancakes.” He proudly sets a plate down in front of Q and just appreciates the expressions of amusement warring with ‘what the fuck’ that play across Q’s features.

 

“Is that... James am I looking at a blueberry pancake Dalek?” It does rather look like one, with bits of strategically placed bananas and lines of honey.  

 

“How much do you want me right now?” James asks, leaning on the counter and flexing his abs because he knows damn well how good he looks in only a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms.

 

“Almost as much as I want this pancake,” Q replies. “And if you really want to fatten me up you need to sit your arse down so I don’t pin you to the table and end up skipping breakfast.”

 

James stands up and serves himself a few failed Dalek pancakes before joining Q at the island. “Damn you and your logic,” he comments, leaning over to kiss Q on the cheek.  “After breakfast I’ll take you up on the offer though.” James doesn’t get the chance however, because before he can even get Q’s robe off after breakfast there is a knock at the door.  

 

Q jumps back, eyes going wide. “Shit, I forgot the system lets Molly’s car through without triggering the alarm. I didn’t think she’d get here so early!”

 

James glances down at his bare chest and Q’s robe-clad body and calculates the odds that they would have time to change before Molly takes drastic action on the door. They are definitely not in their favor. “Well, best get this over with then,” he says as he goes to open the door, feeling the same sort of nervous tension he used to before facing the previous M after a mission gone wrong.

 

Molly lets out a wolf whistle as she steps past James and into the house, carrying a grocery bag. “Well isn’t this a lovely sight so early in the morning!” She pats James on the cheek then breezes over to Q and gives him a hug. “I can see why you keep him around, you lucky dear.” Q tenses slightly when her bracelet digs into a bruise and she steps back immediately, eyes full of concern. “Alright, let’s see then. I brought my own special remedy since James mentioned the plasters.” She sets the bag down and pulls out a glass jar. “I make it myself. Been using it for years on the careless fishermen around here.”  

 

Q holds the robe closed, hesitating. “Now Molly, I don’t want you to freak out. This was the only way I could get him out of a really tight spot.”

 

Molly purses her lips and glances over at James who is standing just out of range and is rocking from foot to foot and radiating discomfort. “I see. It’s okay dearie, I’m not going to scold you.” Q ties the robe tighter around his waist, suddenly very aware of the fact he isn’t wearing any pants, then carefully lets it slip open, exposing his chest. Molly sucks in a pained breath. “James!” she admonishes in a sharp tone that clearly says, ‘what did you do?’

 

“Now Molly-” Q begins, only to have her cut him off.

 

“I said I wouldn’t scold you. He’s another thing entirely.” She watches James’ eyes closely for a few moments before shaking her head and smiling faintly. “Well, that’s alright then.” She steps over to James and puts her hand on his cheek. “I was going to be very cross with you if I detected even a hint of you considering defending yourself. But you’re in just as much pain as he is, aren’t you?”  

 

James feels his throat growing unaccountably tight.  “You have no idea.”

 

She pats him on the cheek. “Probably not, and thank god for that. Good lord, I’d think the two of you would have had enough of the emotional guilt and torment by now. I should start charging by the hour.” She hands the jar to James then bends down to pick up the grocery bag. “You rub this carefully into every one of those wounds while I start on your beef stew. I think we’ll both feel better if our hands have something to do while you explain what happened.  Also, it seems like something you’d better do because I’m thinking some of those marks extend to areas you don’t want to share.” She winks then walks over to the island and begins unpacking the ingredients.

 

James opens the jar gratefully and dips two fingers in, coating them with the salve. It smells like some sort of herb garden, light and soothing. Q closes his eyes and sighs in contentment as James smooths it gently over a pink stripe on his chest. He doesn’t look like he’s planning on joining in on the conversation, so James begins. “I can’t really explain the specifics of why- it’s classified and complicated- but I was undercover and Q decided the best way to draw out the target was to present himself as bait. He has a rather unique skill set, one the target wanted to utilize in a globally catastrophic manner. The only way to maintain my cover was to...hurt him.”

 

Molly freezes with an onion in her hand and stares over at James. “ _You_ did this to him?  Oh my babies, no wonder you’re both such wrecks!” She watches them closely for a few moments, taking Q’s relaxed posture and the way James’ jaw clenches. “There’s something else. Look at him James, he’s clearly forgiven you but you still look like you’re trying to claw your way out of purgatory.”

 

Q keeps his eyes closed but replies, “He left out the part where he behaved like an arse in the months before leaving. Leaving without letting me in on the plan. And leaving me miserable because I had no idea what was going on. I’ve forgiven him, but I’m afraid neither of us has quite forgotten.”

 

James pauses for a moment to lean in and brush his lips lightly over Q’s because yes, that’s exactly it. “He’s so much better at this than I am,” he admits as he turns back towards Molly.  

 

“Well thank god one of you has at least a vague notion of communication,” she huffs, shaking her head. “Of course you haven’t forgotten. You’ll never forget. It’s become a part of who you are as a couple now, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The fact that you’re both here- and looking rather well shagged I have to say- proves that you’re committed to each other. That you can weather the hard parts of loving someone. No one ever said relationships were easy, boys.” She sets the knife on the chopping board. “Before Gavin and I finally got married, I made a terrible mistake.” Bond notices her eyes are shinier than usual, and she takes a deep breath. “I was unfaithful with another man.” She takes up chopping again, keeping her hands busy. “It was a stupid mistake. I was drunk, but that doesn’t excuse what happened.”

 

Q opens his eyes in shock. “Seriously? Did you tell him?”

 

“Of course I did dear, there’s no point in lying to your partner. Either they’ll find out eventually and not trust you, or the guilt will destroy you. Of course the fact that I felt awful didn’t change how much it hurt him. He forgave me, but he didn’t forget either and it took me ever so long to forgive myself. Things were a bit strained between us for a while, but before long we realized that there was no point in letting this one thing from our past ruin our whole future. And it hasn’t.”

 

James steps strategically to the side, blocking Molly’s view as he begins applying the salve to Q’s thighs. “You make it sound so simple. But I don’t know how to let go of being angry at myself for what I did.”

 

“So don’t try so hard to let the anger go. Be so angry it makes you determined to change.  If you’re feeling angry, use the extra energy to kiss the hell out of this one and do whatever crazy things men do in bed. Then one day you’ll wake up and find it’s just gone. I promise.”

 

“You know what? I think I just found my therapist,” Q says with a smile as peeks over James’ shoulder at Molly.

 

“Office hours are between three and five p.m. while I’m busy preparing dinner. You can pay me by helping cook,” Molly replies without missing a beat. “Now then, I think that’s enough seriousness for now or your appetites will be spoiled. Who wants to hear Lewis’ wife’s newest attempt at making him get rid of the new boat he bought after you boys damaged the last one?”

 

They laugh as Molly tells them the gossip of the town since they last visited then Q excuses himself to go put actual clothing on. As soon as he leaves James walks over to Molly and picks up a knife to start chopping carrots. “Thank you for this, Molly. I could cook for him, but I think he could use the extra care. If you’re serious about him coming to talk to you I’ll send him ‘round. He might not want to tell you, so I will. He had to kill. Once to save himself and once to save England, and he’s understandably having a hard time dealing with it. I don’t think he feels like I can’t truly understand, since I have more...calluses... when it comes to that.”

 

Molly rests her hand over James’ for a moment. “You’re a good man, James. Never doubt it. But if I ever see that young man of yours looking anything less than thoroughly loved and shagged I’ll show you you’re not the only one who can get creative with weapons.” She gives him an innocent smile but her eyes are just calculating enough to make her point.  

 

James swallows hard. “Noted. Though it shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“What shouldn’t be a problem?” Q asks, breezing back into the kitchen and hopping up onto a barstool next to James.

 

“Keeping you well shagged, mostly,” James replies with a wink.

 

Q blushes. “I leave you alone for two minutes! Apologies, Molly, his mind is eternally in the gutter.”

 

“I know. It’s one of the things I like about him,” Molly says with a mischievous smile.  

 

For once in his life James isn’t even considering a smartarse reply as he listens to the conversation that begins around him because all he can do is stand here, cutting vegetables between these two people he’s come to love, and think that this is what it feels like to be home.

 

The time passes quickly until lunch is ready, especially once Molly looks closer at the dust covering everything. Then Q gets to watch Molly herd James around with cleaning supplies until she declares the place is liveable again. After lunch she leaves with the promise they’re welcome to either have dinner at the pub or take it with them. They are however under strict orders to come to the next poker night. James and Q go for a long walk along the cliffs, not saying much and simply soaking up the peaceful atmosphere. By the time they return the sun is just starting to set so they make some quick sandwiches and carry them down to their dock to have a picnic by the water.  

 

After they eat James lies back onto the blanket and Q snuggles into him, resting his head on James’ chest. “It’s good to be back,” he sighs, breathing in the scent of the ocean air mixed with the familiar scent unique to James. The next thing he knows he’s feeling cool and James is shifting beneath him. He opens his eyes and is surprised to see that it’s dark.

 

“Ow,” James groans, sitting up and pulling Q along with him. “I wasn’t planning on falling asleep.”

 

“Well I was comfy,” Q grins, standing up and holding his hand out to help James up.  “But I wasn’t the one with my back against the hard boards. Sorry. Bath, massage, sixty-nine, bed?”

 

James cracks his back before leaning in to kiss Q. “Sounds amazing. But can we trade the sixty-nine part for that mystery outfit of yours?”   

 

“Not yet. You aren’t at the proper level of frustrated curiosity,” Q teases, dancing away from James’ attempt at smacking his arse and heading for the stairs.  

 

“Nice to see some of your sadistic tendencies are still intact,” James calls as he gathers up the blanket before following Q back to their house.  

 

It takes a week for Q to decide James is curious enough that he’s about to dig into the box and use Q like a dress-up doll if Q doesn’t just do it himself. A week of exploring the island, lazing in bed, visiting Molly, watching movies, and terrorizing their friends in Minecraft.  One night Q hacked Eve’s account.  Together, they built an army of weeping angel statues strewn all over her territory. Q was surprised they didn’t hear the resulting freak out from here. It’s been the best week he’s had in ages.  Though his wounds have healed and no longer hurt, the marks won't fade for a long time yet. James is still treating him with extreme care, which he appreciates, but he’s ready for something a bit more intense. He orders James to wait in the bedroom while he changes. He dresses carefully because it’s a bit complicated, then takes a moment to appraise himself in the mirror. Oh yes, he thinks, this is going to be fun.

 

James sits on the edge of the bed and waits, already half-hard in anticipation because Q has been teasing about this all bloody week and he has imagined dozens of possibilities.  He really hopes Q likes this because now he has a slew of fantasies he’d love to see fulfilled, though he can’t really picture Q in anything considered traditionally feminine. He supposes if Q put on some thigh highs and garters he’d look hot as hell, but James rather appreciates his masculinity too much for his mind to really go there at this point. He palms his hardening cock through his jeans and wonders what’s taking so long. Then the bathroom door opens and Q is silhouetted against the light, hip cocked as he lounges against the door frame with one hand stretched over his head as the other plays over his thigh and...Holy. Fucking. Hell.

 

 

Q shivers at the look of unadulterated desire on James’ face. “Like what you see?” he asks coyly, straightening and running his hands down his sides enticingly as he slinks towards James.  

 

James opens his mouth then shuts it again because apparently his higher functions are offline. What Q is wearing isn’t even overtly sexual. Only his feet, hands and head are bared yet he looks sleekly erotic in fitted black trousers, a black cravat shirt lined with black lace that somehow manages to look hot instead of strange, and a distractingly tight - distinctly male- corset. James has to dig his fingers into his own thighs to prevent himself from dropping to his knees because he’s not sure Q wants that. He licks his lips as Q prowls over, his movements fluid and sensual and arousal spikes through James so hard he actually feels lightheaded for a moment. Q steps between his legs and James reaches out with both hands to play with the silver buckles on the leather-boned corset.  

 

Q grabs James’ hands and holds them in place. “Oh no. It took me a long time to get into this and you are damn well going to appreciate it before you get to mess it up,” he purrs, sliding his hands down to wrap around James’ wrists. “Just appreciate it for a while.” He guides James’ hands up his sides then to the lace collar of the shirt and lets go, tilting his head back in obvious invitation.  

 

James growls and stands, crowding Q back a step as he bites at the arch in Q’s neck and pulls him close. His hands explore the unyielding corset, fingers sliding over leather, soft cloth and cold metal and he makes an unconscious noise of pure desperate need. Since he’s sure that was the reaction Q was going for he doesn’t waste any energy on embarrassment. “Christ you look good like this,” he breathes as he nips at Q’s earlobe and shifts his hips so Q can feel how hard he is. He spends a few minutes running his hands over Q’s clothed body, circling him and nipping at his exposed nape. “What do you want? I want to kneel and hand you over my will in a wrapped package, but whatever you want I’ll do. Anything.”

 

Q takes a steadying breath, but mostly because James’ words shoot straight to his cock, not because he’s uncomfortable. He wants to be in charge tonight because it will give him the sense of control he still needs even if he’s ready for slightly more than vanilla sex. French vanilla, at least. He grins and steps away from James. “Strip for me, then lie on your back on the bed. Arms crossed over your head and keep them that way.”  

 

James flushes at the honey dark tone of Q’s voice. Even though he’s tempted to just pull his clothes off as quickly as possible he doesn’t. He undresses slowly, teasingly, loving the way Q’s eyes are fixed on him with unabashed desire. When he’s fully naked he slides backwards onto the bed, fully aware of how the lines of his muscles are shifting in the light from the open doorway into their darkened room. He extends his arms fully above his head and crosses them at his wrists. “How do you want my legs?” he asks in a falsely innocent voice as he pulls them up so his feet are flat on the bed and his heels touch the backs of his thighs. “Like this maybe?”  

 

Q’s breath hitches as he takes in James’ body, gorgeously pliant and open for him and the vulnerability in the position, even without bonds, makes his blood flow faster. He climbs up onto the bed and kneels in front of James, dragging his fingers up from James’ arse to his knees and letting his nails dig into the heated skin just enough to make James shiver but not enough to leave marks. He trails them back down and flutters his fingers over James’ entrance, flushing with pleasure when James’ muscles tense and ripple and his back arches off the bed as he makes a low noise of ‘yes, more’. “Patience, love,” Q warns, licking a finger then bringing it down to circle around the sensitive ring of muscle. He leans down to blow on the spit-slicked skin.  

 

James growls in frustrated desire because Q looks so damned good and it’s taking all of his willpower to keep his hands locked where Q ordered them. Then Q moves to straddle his chest, keeping most of his weight off so James can still breathe. Not that he’s having an easy time regardless because there is something sinfully delicious about lying here naked beneath his exotically clothed lover. He sucks in a breath when Q licks his lips then reaches down to slowly unbutton his trousers. Even though James has seen this hundreds of times he’s still spellbound as Q lowers the zip. “Oh fuck,” he pants when Q’s cock springs free. He stares as Q kneels up to work the trousers down just far enough that he can pull his balls free as well and the ‘V’ in the opening holds them up wickedly. James swallows hard and his hands twitch but he manages to keep them still.

 

Q enjoys the desperate look on James’ face and runs a hand teasingly down his length just because it makes James’ eyes go even darker. Then he slides forward and leans down to take James’ wrists in his hands and rests his weight on them so he can shift forward until his sack is nearly brushing James’ lips. “Suck,” he orders, voice breaking a bit because he’s never done this before. It’s always been James in this position above him and he isn’t certain James will like it. But James seems eager enough as he lifts his head to lick a path between before sucking one testicle into his mouth and rolling it gently with his tongue while humming. Q whines and his hips jerk forward minutely but James just sucks a bit harder and moans his approval. Q’s thighs begin to shake, then he nearly collapses when James moves to the other side because he honestly had no idea it would feel this good. When James finally lets his head fall back against the bed Q cants his hips forward and lets the glistening head of his cock slide over James’ lips and holy hell is that an obscenely gorgeous sight.  

 

James opens his mouth and lets Q slip between his lips, sucking the tangy flavor off greedily. He’s pleased when Q shudders and whines as he pushes himself in deeper and suddenly James understands why Q loves this so much. Pinned beneath Q like this he feels possessed and needed and the best kind of filthy and oh, they are so doing this again. He closes his eyes and ignores the twitching of his own ignored cock as he focuses on the wet slide of Q’s length against his lips and tongue.

 

After only a minute Q pulls back because it feels too insanely good and he doesn’t want to finish like this. He slides his hands up James’ arms so he can swing a leg over and climb off of him. “Don’t move,” he orders as he lets his trousers fall to the floor and steps out of them. He grabs the lube off of the bedside table and squirts some into his hand then reaches out to smooth it over James’ dark erection; just a quick stroke up and back but James still arches into the pressure and swears. Q grins as he climbs back onto James and sits so that James’ slick cock is trapped beneath the crack of his arse.

 

James groans when his aching length finally gets some attention, but it’s maddening because Q is just smirking down at him and undulating his hips slowly so the soft skin of his arse slides against James’ cock with far too little friction to do anything but make him desperate for more. Finally Q unbuttons the top button of his shirt then crooks his finger in a lewd ‘come hither’ motion and James takes that as permission. He sits up quickly, folding his legs beneath him so Q can sit in his lap as he uses one hand to continue unbuttoning as the other wraps behind Q’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss that is as wild uninhibited as James is feeling right now. Their erections bump and rub ineffectually against each other but James is too determined to get Q out of the shirt to care. When he’s gotten it open to the top of the corset he tugs on the material gently, working it out so he can unbutton it completely. He immediately pushes it off of Q’s shoulders and growls when it gets caught on Q’s wrists and there is a brief struggle as both of them try to work his hands out without unbuttoning the cuffs.  

 

The second his shirt is off, Q pushes James back down onto the bed. “We’re leaving this on,” he says as he runs his hands down the sides of the corset.

 

“Oh hell yes,” James agrees, taking in the striking contrast of the inky black against Q’s light skin and the way the slight curve to the corset accents his lightly muscled form.

 

“Knees up and hands back over your head,” Q orders, shifting back so his arse is teasing at James’ cock again. He arches his back, plants his left hand next to James’ thigh and uses the other to squirt some lube directly onto James’ aresehole before rubbing a finger back and forth over it for a few moments then pressing it slowly inside with his eyes locked on James’.

 

James makes a choked sort of whine and presses back wanting more, deeper, because Q is rocking his hips slowly in time with the thrusts of first one, two, then three fingers inside of him as his arse slides teasingly over James’ cock. James grits his teeth, worried he’s going to come practically the second Q finally gets inside of him because the physical sensations alone are almost too much. Combined with the view of Q above him, lithe muscles shifting, eyes dark and intense, lower lip caught between his teeth as his erection bumps obscenely against the leather and metal fasteners of the corset he has no chance in holding off for long.

 

Q can tell James is close so he reluctantly slips his fingers out and slides off of James, taking time to grab a pillow before he moves back to kneel between James’ legs. He taps James’ hip and he lifts up, allowing Q to slide it beneath his lower back. Q takes a steadying breath as he spreads more lube over his own cock, hissing at how sensitive it is. Then he spreads his knees wide and pulls James’ legs up to rest on his shoulders before gripping James’ thighs and pulling him closer. He doesn’t ask if James is ready because he knows the answer and he doesn’t trust his voice, so he just lines the head of of his cock up and presses in slowly. He forgets to breathe for a few moments as his entire universe narrows to the tight heat of James’ body, the contracting ring of muscle that resists only minutely before seeming to draw him in. The absolute trust implied in the fact that James allows him to do this is suddenly overwhelming.  

 

James watches Q’s face closely as he feels his body opening, welcoming his lover in and the feeling of surrender is incredible. “Breathe, Artemis,” he urges, deciding Q’s safety is more important than following a command and reaching his hands out to stroke them lightly down Q’s arms.  

 

Q takes a shuddering breath before moving his hands to curl beneath James’ arse and grip it firmly. He turns his head to brush a kiss against the inside of James’ leg then lifts as he presses forward, pulling James up fractionally in order to intensify his thrust. He smirks when James’ eyes go wide because Q knows sometimes he forgets that even though Q is smaller he is by no means weak. “Hold on tight,” he advises, grinning when James’ hands close around his forearms in a firm grip.  

 

It isn’t often that James is feeling pliant enough to just hold on and enjoy the ride, but this is definitely one of those times. With his legs on Q’s shoulders and his hands where they are all he can really do is use his abs to shift his hips but even that is difficult since Q is lifting him with every thrust and it’s insanely hot. So he gives up trying to control anything and just lets himself feel. That -and make incoherent, downright pornographic noises of pleasure just because he knows how much Q loves it when he’s loud and he’s already so damned close. Then Q digs his nails into the muscles of his arse, pulling James up and forward hard and James barely has time to appreciate the sight of Q’s face, which is gorgeous when he comes, before his own orgasm causes his eyes to slam shut as every muscle in his body tenses up then relaxes in the wake of a truly spectacular endorphin rush. When his brain comes online again he’s cuddled up against Q’s chest with their legs entwined and Q’s hands are running in soothing patterns up and down his back.  

 

“I haven’t rendered you this out of it in a long time. Remind me to do it more often because you’re adorable when you’re this relaxed.” Q kisses the top of James’ head affectionately.

 

“Well if you have any more plans to dress like sex incarnate I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” James mumbles, licking Q’s chest just because he has a sudden urge to taste his sweat and his brain-to-action filter is still at zero.

 

Q laughs. “If you think I need to be cleaned up I think a shower would be more effective.”

 

“A shower would require you to take this off,” James points out, running an appreciative hand over the corset.  

 

“That is true. But a shower would also let you admire the imprints it’s undoubtedly left on my skin.”

 

James pauses for a moment to let that mental image sink in. “You know me so well,” he grins, sitting up and stretching. “And it’s definitely going to be a while before I’m ready to go again, so you can indulge your pet kink and we both win.”  

 

Q’s eyes flick down to James’ sated cock and his smile turns slightly wicked. “I love you extra some days.”

 

After what turns out to be one of the longest showers they’ve ever shared they are back in bed, snuggled into the blankets and discussing their plans for the upcoming road trip. “I should’ve grabbed my tablet so we could plot the destinations out on a map,” Q comments as he plays with James’ wet hair.

 

James wraps his arms tighter around Q. “You’re not moving. Besides, we still have about a week before we leave. And if we have everything all planned out it’ll ruin the fun of just going wherever we feel like at the time.”

 

“You realize it goes against everything I do to go into something without a plan.”

 

“This isn’t an MI6 mission, Q, it’s a vacation. It’s supposed to be spontaneous. Besides, even if we do try to create some sort of schedule it will inevitably get all messed up and I don’t you getting irritated when it does.”

 

“Okay, no specific plans. But where would you like to go?”

 

“Berlin,” James says, trying for casual even though he knows Q has read his entire life history and will know the significance it holds for him.

 

“Oh good, I was hoping to make it there.” Q doesn’t say any more about it because he doesn’t want to press James for anything potentially difficult to talk about right now. Besides, he has his own reason for wanting to go there. “And Paris of course. Oh, and I really want to go to Tuscany, maybe Sienna? just for the food.” Q yawns and snuggles in closer, letting his eyes fall shut.

 

James kisses Q on the temple. “Hmm, I know what I’ll be dreaming about now,” he mumbles. His last thought before he slips into unconsciousness is that he can’t wait to discover what Q’s mouth tastes like after drinking good Italian wine.

  
  
       

 

 

 

Q is wearing [this outfit ](http://www.galleryserpentine.com.au/ProductDetails.aspx?productID=661)towards the end. Thanks [Jennybel75](../../../users/Jennybel75/pseuds/Jennybel75)!  Anyone who knows how to create manips, feel free to actually put Q in it : )

      


	5. Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We promised a road trip in Europe. First stop: Berlin.
> 
> There are some visuals up on Hedwig_Dordt's tumblr:  
> http://hedwig-dordt.tumblr.com/post/51078860957/german-breakfast-3-paintings-by-tjebbe-beekman.
> 
> *Also, this was Hedwig's work of love this time around- I, fightyourdragon, just played beta to this part of their trip!

“Breakfast is a reason to visit Berlin in its own right,” Q says, grinning at his plate. Apparently Germans take breakfast seriously. “So, where do you want to go this morning?” James seems to hesitate for a second. “I’d like to see my old house, actually.” And then, as an afterthought. “If it’s still there, of course. Is that okay? Is there anything you’d like to do?”

“I’d like to meet an old friend. I’ve texted him, he’s available this entire week. He’ll be in his workshop mornings. I think we should be able to do both if we take the car.”

They park the car in a residential neighborhood. It’s quiet, but not eerily so. Not like James, who goes from “normal quiet” to “clamped down” as they get closer to his old neighborhood. Q knows better than to pry when James is like this. Instead, he studies the buildings, trying to learn what he can of James’ background from the brick and mortar.

“That’s the one, I think.” James points at one of the houses. “That’s where we lived.”

Q looks at the building, trying to tie this basic construction to his larger than life partner. “Do you want to see if we can get inside?” he asks. James shakes his head, but doesn’t seem to want to leave either as he continues looking at the house.

“Have you ever considered having children?” James asks.

Q looks at him, surprised at the question. “No, not really. It’s... I’ve never been in a relationship long enough for it to come up, and between our jobs... You?”

“No. Never. As soon as you have children, you have people that need you around. I always knew I sure as hell wouldn’t be that.”

“Do you miss your parents?” 

James contemplates that question, but he is uncertain about the answer. “In the abstract maybe. I missed having parents. Most of the memories are pieced together from photographs.” With that, James starts walking again, even farther away from the car. “There used to be a playground around the corner, I think.”

And sure enough, it still exists. A young mother is eyeing her little girl from the corner of her eye. Q covertly observes James’ response. He seems okay. Better, really.

“Do you want to go exploring the city?” James finally asks. Q nods and James takes his hand. “Let’s go back to the car.”

When they’re buckled up again James asks, “Who did you want to go see?”

“Mystery friend,” Q answers. “Take a right turn here.”

They stop at what looks like an abandoned warehouse. James eyes it suspiciously. “What's this?” Q just smiles and rings the bell. The door swings open and Q enters, beckoning James over. The place smells peculiar, tinged with stale coffee and tobacco, though not in a bad way. A man dressed in a cover-alls is coming down the stairs to welcome them. 

“So you're Artemis?” the man asks, looking Q over. “Pleasure to finally meet you.” The men study each other interestedly, James notes with a tinge of jealousy. Here's another backstory he missed.

“Tjebbe, pleasure to meet you too. This is my partner, James.”

Realising Q isn't using an alias, James proffers his hand. “James Bond.”

“Tjebbe Beekman. Artemis has been a great help in my work.”

“I know the feeling,” James grins. “What do you do?”

“He hasn't told you? I'm a painter. Come on upstairs.” The man leads them up the stairs to a room that is decorated as an office. There’s a laptop on a desk, books on shelves and a small sink with a coffee machine. “Would you like coffee? I'd offer tea, Artemis, but I'm afraid I can't offer properly boiled water.” James also notices an extra door that would likely lead to a larger room.

“Coffee is fine.”

The man starts making coffee and as it brews, he opens his laptop and turns on a beamer to show a series of images.

“Seeing the image of a painting projected on the wall just isn’t the same as seeing the actual picture,” Q says to no one in particular.

“There's no substitute for seeing the the real material object,” the painter concedes, pouring three mugs of coffee. 

James’ curiosity wins out. “What exactly did Artemis do for you?” he asks.

“I was making a series of portraits of CCTV cameras, and Artemis pointed out quite a few, both their location and some of the rarer types. Mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all. It's one of the overlooked benefits of working on your own,” James replies. 

The two men grin conspiratorially and James decides he likes Beekman. Q and the painter launch a conversation on the physicality of painting, the choice and use of material and the appreciation of cityscapes. James sips his coffee and looks at the images projected on the wall. They are... not exactly pretty. They are big and dark and brutal but with a beauty of their own. He wonders if Q somehow finds this kind of darkness appealing, and files that question for later. Then he realises one of the scents he is smelling is oil paint.

“Can we have a look at what you are working on now?” he asks.

The painter sighs, looking from James to Q. “You realise this isn't finished, right?”

“Of course we realise what we're asking,” Q interferes smoothly.

“Come on over then.” With that he opens the second door which turns out to lead to the studio.

When Q and James leave the warehouse a good hour later, James admits surprise at his lover's enthusiasm for the work. “I didn't realise how deeply your art appreciation ran.” 

“I had you meet me at the National! If that's not a clue, I don't know what is.”

“I thought it was a nod to old spy movies. You know, the ‘Meet At An Inconspicuous Public Location’.”

“In undergrad I took a few electives in art and organised the field trips. Best run trips they had in years. If you've noticed, I handle logistics really well.” Q grins. “I could do with a spot of lunch myself.”

They spend the rest of the day walking around town then evening finds them having dinner at a restaurant. “I thought we could indulge that exhibitionist kink of yours,” Q says conversationally. “Have a bit of an after-hours stroll through the park. Suck you off on under the trees.”

James’ eyes widen with surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn't offer if I weren't. The park I have in mind has minimal public trauma odds, especially at this hour.”

“God, I'd leave now if I weren't still feeding you up a little. But by all means, let's skip dessert for dessert.”

“I thought the traditional euphemism was coffee, but there you go,” Q says, finishing off his spaghetti at record speed. They leave in what they hope is an inconspicuous hurry. Q apparently knows where they are going and they enjoy the cool evening air on the way. When they find a convenient bench, Q straddles his lover to kiss him hard and rubs over James’ unmistakable erection through the denim. 

James moans then stiffens a little when Q starts working on his fly. He grips Q's wrists, breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “I'm sorry, Q. I don’t think I’m ready for this.” The images of Smith watching them together threaten to overwhelm James. “I'm sorry,” he repeats. 

Q just wraps his arms around James and kisses him quietly. “It's alright. We don't have to do this.”

“Oh, I want to do this. Or at least, I will want to do this. But for now, can we get back to the hotel?”

“Of course.” With a final nip of his lower lip, Q slips off of James’ lap. He holds out his hand and they walk back to the car to return to their hotel.

When they are back inside their rooms, James wraps his arms around Q again. “I can't believe you were willing to indulge me like that.”

“As I've said before, there's very little I wouldn't do for you,” Q answers.

“Am I ever glad you're on my side.”

“Oh, you should be. I'm very resourceful.” Q turns around to return the teasing nibble on James’ earlobe.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” James mutters. “It’s not that I don’t want to...” He gets distracted by Q kissing his neck. 

“I can tell,” Q smiles into the kiss. “Now do you want to talk or are we finishing what we started?” Q moves up to James’ mouth. 

“Bloody teenager,” James manages to get in before returning the kiss in earnest and they snog for a bit at the door. 

Q is waiting for James to move along, but he seems intent on just kissing tonight. Just when Q starts to give up the notion of sex, James lifts him up and carries him to bed. Once situated, they pick up where they left. “Are you okay?” Q asks quietly, nuzzling James.

“Hrmmmm,” comes out instead of a reply.

Q scrambles up a bit. “We don’t have to have sex. I assume we’ll both still be here tomorrow.” With that James chokes up a bit and clings to Q harder. Q pets his hair until an indeterminate time later when James lets go a little. Q gets back under the covers and holds him until they’re both asleep.

They spend the next day mostly lounging. They order their breakfast via room service. James seems disinclined to talk about the day before and Q isn’t sure what to ask him in order to get him to talk. The darkness seems to have receded for now, and Q is mostly glad for that. In the afternoon, James goes for a swim while Q occupies of one of the tan beds with his copy of Dark Currents, pretending not to watch. That night, when they are having dinner in their hotel, Q has a realisation. “I think I know why you like Berlin.”

“I never said I did,” James says.

“Its hobby seems to be resurrection. Built, destroyed, reconstructed, torn apart and stitched together again.”

James smirks at that. “I’m starting to think that it’s you who likes Berlin.”

Q looks confused for a second, and then starts laughing. “I guess you’re right. I do like it. No, not like. I adore it. It’s so... alive. It’s really lovely. And I do appreciated a piece that has been patched up, it seems.”

James orders dessert in German, and Q is certain he heard the word ‘spaghetti’ somewhere in the conversation. James is pointedly saying nothing. When their waiter arrives a good ten minutes later with their dessert, Q looks at his cup in confusion. “Why does my dessert look like the main course?”

“It’s a local specialty. Spaghetti ice cream with strawberry sauce.”

“I was wondering whether I got that right.” Q giggles as he takes the first spoonful. “It’s actually surprisingly good,” he admits. 

“It was my favourite.” James smirks, adding,“When I was five.”

“Did they have ice cream back in the eighteen hundreds?” Q snarks.

“Are you sure you want to start with that? Because I’m pretty sure I can still keep up with you.”

Q grins and licks off his spoon in with an exaggerated movement. “Want prove it?” James dips his little finger into the espresso and makes a show of licking his finger. “Okay, we really need to get out of here,” Q says, “before they throw us out.”

They have the meal added to their hotel bill and take the lift to their floor. They make out for most of the trip then James fumbles with the access card to get them inside their room.

“Shower?” James suggests as Q is working on the buttons of his shirt.

Q gives him a quick peck on his lips. “Yes.” They strip off their clothes and head into the bathroom and into the shower. Q pulls James into a hug, holding him close and taking his time to kiss him languidly. He had intended to distract James to get under the water first but James beats him to it, drawing him in for more kissing. James strokes down the lines of Q’s body, moving along with the water to grasp his erection. Q hisses as James starts stroking in earnest. Q leans in to steal another kiss which James breaks off to drop to his knees and take his lover’s erection into his mouth. Months of practice have taught him how to make Q finish hard and fast and how to draw it out. After the dinner show, he’s in the mood to tease. He sucks lightly, stroking Q’s inner thighs, slipping a finger over his balls, teasing over his arse. When James looks up to see leaning against the tiles, eyes closed.

A fraction of a second later, Q realises James has stopped. “Tell me you’re stopping to take me to bed,” he growls.

“As you wish.” Q turns off the tap while James grabs a towel and perfunctorily dries himself off, then Q with slightly more care because he is still not quite certain how rough he can be. Q rewards his care with another quick kiss. “Bed. Now.”

They cross the room to the bed and Q pulls James in. “How do you want me?” James takes a second too long to think about it, so Q just pushes him down onto the bed. He crawls over James and grinds his hips down, trapping both their erections. Then he slides down James’ body, distracting his lover by biting, sucking and licking his chest. Q coats his hand with lube and takes hold of James’ erection. He strokes, twists and strokes again on muscle memory. His hands remember exactly how to reduce James to the edge of orgasm. For a bit he’s torn between teasing for another turn and watching his man come undone. The latter wins. He increases the pressure and soon enough James arches, curses and comes, crying out his name. Q sprawls over him while kissing James gently down from his orgasm. 

Soon enough, James starts stroking Q’s back, then his hips, and then lower still over his buttocks. James checks Q’s responses. “Careful, I’m going to turn you over now,” he says to give Q a chance to object. He doesn’t. James lays him on his back. “Comfortable?”

“I could be better,” Q suggests, arching an eyebrow. 

“Getting there.” And with that, James positions himself between his lover’s thighs and takes Q’s cock into his mouth. Q bucks his hips a little and bites his lip. James purses his lips, sucks a little, then lets go to use his tongue, licking a broad swipe over Q’s cock. Then he takes Q’s length into his mouth again, but this time without teasing.

“Ohgodohgoodyesmoreyes,” Q whimpers incoherently.

James lets go of Q’s erection to add some lube to his fingers. He teases at Q’s entrance for a bit before guiding in a finger, aiming for Q’s prostate. Q mutters an oath -which James counts as a good result. James takes in Q’s hard cock into his mouth, sucking in earnest. He will never get enough of reducing his quartermaster, his Q, his Artemis to a writhing mess. Tonight he doesn’t feel like teasing overmuch, so he works his tongue and his hands the way he knows Q likes best. Q comes hard, his face flushed, his hips bucking. In the aftermath of his climax, he relaxes against James, boneless and sated. “James?” he asks, eyelids already drooping.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

James nuzzles him, “I love you too.” Q yawns, snuggles closer and falls asleep.

The next morning, they order breakfast in their room. “I’d like to do some horrendously touristy things if you’re up for it,” Q says.

“Like what?”

“Berlin wall? Television tower? Ku-fursten-thingy.”

“Ku-dam.” James offers. 

“That’s the one.”

“Horribly touristy. The kind of thing one never does when you actually live here. By all means, let’s do it! Did you have a guidebook or is there an app for that?” James asks, only half-teasing. 

Q suppresses a sigh of relief. It is a little embarrassing, requesting all the tourist highlights from someone who used to live here. “We should send Moneypenny a postcard. I understand that is a tradition.” James grins as a reply. “So are we taking the car?” Q asks.

“No. If we’re going to do the tourist thing, we’re doing it right. In the subway.”

Q looks doubtfully at James’ smirk. “Okay captain -commander,” he quickly corrects. “You’re in charge now,” Q says as he slathers a generous helping of nutella on a croissant. James’ smirk widens to a grin.

Naturally, James delivers. Yes, the tram is less comfy than the car, but it has the bonus of people watching. The Berlin wall is crumbling, at least the little piece that’s left of it. Q suggests buying a soviet style hat, but James vetoes it. After lunch, Q spends some time perusing a gift shop for a suitably tacky card to send to Eve, as well as a nice one for Molly. He settles on an overview of the city for Eve and one with “the street lamp guys” for Molly. After about twenty minutes, James gives up on teaching Q the pronunciation of Ampelmänchen. In the evening, they take a bath. 

“Anywhere you’d like to go next?” Q asks.

“Paris, maybe?” James ventures.

“Incurable romantic.”

James just hums assent and draws Q in a little closer.

“Paris, it is then.”


	6. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip! Next stop: Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to brush your teeth after reading.
> 
> Supporting visuals at Hedwig's Tumblr: http://hedwig-dordt.tumblr.com/post/51957457995/an-illustration-of-the-use-of-colour-in-medieval
> 
> Under the tag 'between the shadow and the soul'. Any mistakes in the French languague belong to Hedwig, corrections are welcome.

**Paris**

Before James even opens his eyes he rolls to the side and stretches an arm out, planning on pulling Q back in for some lazy morning kisses. When his hand only brushes over the luxuriously soft sheet he grudgingly opens eyes and blinks into to the warm summer light.  There’s no sign of Q, but there is a sheet of paper in the empty space. James sits up curiously and picks up the note, expecting some sort of ‘I ran to get us breakfast’ message even though Q has historically relied on texts. What he finds instead is something much more intriguing. The note reads:

 

_Good morning lazy bones! You can go ahead and use the excuse of getting in late last night but I think your age is showing : ) (Ha, my arse is currently too far away for you to smack) So, I was thinking. What would have happened if we had met like a normal couple? I missed out on the legendary James Bond seduction routine since I was the one doing most of the seducing back on Skye. I think I’d like to experience it now. Let’s see if you can get me back into this bed by tonight, shall we? There is a perfect stranger sitting somewhere in the Jardin Du Luxembourg..._

 

James smiles devilishly. So Q wants to play a game, does he? He stretches as he wanders into the loo before a quick shower, already planning his strategy and considering wardrobe options. Oh yes, this is going to be fun.

 

Q sits on a park bench, sipping a surprisingly good cup of tea and nibbling on a chocolate croissant while he waits for James to show up. He feels strangely nervous. Will James even play along or will he think it’s a silly game? If he does play along, how long will he keep it up? He flushes with pleasure at the thought of being on the receiving end of a seduction routine that lasts all day. Besides, it would be fun to have first-meeting conversations again since he’s sure he could learn a few new things. About who though? Will James use an alternate persona like he would with a target? Or will he be honest about who he is? For that matter, how much will he himself be honest? The uncertainty adds to the excitement of the game. He’s so completely lost in thought that he’s genuinely caught off-guard when James stops in front of his bench.

 

James finds Q without much trouble and spends a few minutes observing him. If he had been wandering the park and had never seen Q before he has to admit he would definitely have noticed the handsome stranger sitting alone. Q isn’t wearing anything particularly attention-grabbing, just dark jeans and a white button-down. At first glance it looks effortlessly thrown together, but James was along on that shopping trip and the subsequent trip to a tailor to have the items carefully fitted to accent Q’s lithe physique. He looks absolutely stunning.  Pulling himself together, James walks over and clears his throat, smiling when Q looks up at him. “Pardon me, but do you speak French?”  

 

Q’s mind shorts out for a second when he takes in James’ appearance so his reply is obviously delayed. “Sorry, no. How did you know I even speak English?” he asks, giving James a curious half-smile. Damn he looks good in distractingly tight jeans and a black ribbed v-neck t-shirt that shows off his toned arms.

 

“Well it was either that or you decorate your property with English sayings just for the esthetic,” James replies, nodding towards Q’s messenger bag.  

 

Q looks over and laughs in mild embarrassment. He’d forgotten about the button on the strap that reads, _Keep Calm and Call The Doctor_. “Oh, right. Why do you need a translator?”

 

“Well it seems I grabbed the wrong guide from the rack at my hotel. I should’ve realised they weren’t all in English.” He holds up a little brochure with highlights of Paris. “I guess I’ll just have to rely on Google to tell me who the famous dead guys are,” he says, gesturing at a nearby statue.

 

“I think it’s more entertaining making it up, honestly. Let’s see...I’m fairly certain that’s ‘Guy who saved this park from the great pigeon infestation of 1532.’”

 

James takes in the pigeon droppings covering the statue then smirks at Q. “Nice to imagine the French having a sense of humor.”

 

Q smiles back, his stomach already fluttering at the light flirting. “Oh they don’t. Clearly the sculptor was German with that sort of obvious appreciation of irony.”

 

James laughs and his smile becomes even brighter. He steps closer and holds his hand out for Q to take. “James.”

 

Q grasps the proffered hand and shakes it firmly, noting that James hangs on just a fraction longer than generally considered socially acceptable. “Artemis.”

 

James raises his brows slightly. “Goddess of the hunt.”

 

Q rolls his eyes and groans. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all.”  

 

“It suits you.” James moves to sit next to Q so their thighs are nearly touching. He lowers his voice and adds just a hint of suggestion as he lets his gaze travel over Q’s body and says, “Though I can’t imagine you need to do much hunting.”

 

Q blushes and bites his lower lip but doesn’t look away. “You’re very forward, aren’t you?”

 

“And you haven’t punched me or walked away, so I can only assume you’re as intrigued by me as I am by you.”

 

“Possibly. But for all I know you could be a serial killer. I hear Dahmer was charming as well.”  

 

James laughs, bright and uninhibited. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m just in international sales.  Rather boring. You?”

 

“IT. Equally boring.”  

 

“Well Artemis, I’m in Paris until tomorrow. The business part of my trip is over so I thought I’d do the tourist thing since I’ve never gotten around to it. And I am single, by the way. Are you free for the day?”

 

“Yes... I was in town for a conference, now I’m just killing time until my flight tomorrow.”  He pauses, taking in James’ expectant look. “Oh, ah, single as well. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking to be anyone’s Parisian fling,” he adds slightly defensively, because he doesn’t want to make this too easy for James.

 

James holds up his hands in a show of innocence. “I didn’t mean to imply that. My apologies. It’s just... I saw you sitting here and I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn’t at least talk to you. Now I know I’ll never forgive myself if I walk away without letting you know that I’d really prefer not to.”

 

Q blinks at James for a few moments, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice and the hope in his ridiculously blue eyes. Would James really have said these things to him if they’d met like this? He suspects he might have, and it definitely would have worked. “Are you asking me on a date?”

 

“I suppose I am, yes. I promise to be a perfect gentleman. I won’t ask you for anything, and if I make you uncomfortable in any way just tell me and I’ll stop. But a day in Paris with a gorgeous man... isn’t that the dream?”

 

“And so modest,” Q replies, nudging James with his knee.

 

“I meant you,” James counters with a smile.

 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, let’s do this. Just today. Just for fun.”

 

“Just for fun,” James agrees. “No discussions about jobs or boring things like that.”

 

“What do we talk about then?”

 

James stands and holds his hand out for Q to take. He helps him up then lets go of his hand with a slight show of reluctance. “The important things! For example, David Tennant or Matt Smith?”

 

“David Tennant. Is that even a valid question?”

 

James grins at him. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”  

 

“So, where to?”

 

“I don’t know. How about we just wander the park and see where the day takes us?”  James reaches for Q’s hand again then stops himself. “Sorry,” he says when Q’s gaze flicks down to catch the aborted movement. “I didn’t mean to-”

 

“It’s fine,” Q cuts in, reaching out to lace their fingers together. “Besides, if I don’t do this now I’ll just be walking next to you wishing I could work up the courage to do it.”

 

James rubs his thumb over Q’s skin lightly. “Your honesty is refreshing. Also, I’d be thinking the same thing.” He winks and brings Q’s hand up to his lips for a brief kiss. “This is as forward as I’ll be though. I’ll leave the rest up to you. It really isn’t my intention to press you for anything.”

 

Q smirks at him as they begin walking. “But you wouldn’t say no if I offered more, am I right?”

 

“In the interest of full disclosure: I don’t expect I’d turn down anything you’d offer.” James drops his voice to a rumble as he adds, “Beautiful stranger.”

 

Q laughs and tugs James in the direction of a man-made pond full of small boats being pushed along by a group of kids. “Oh, you’re very good. I’m afraid I’m not quite that easy though. Come on, when was the last time you played with a toy sailboat?”  

 

“A good while. But considering that I was a commander in the Royal Navy, I’d hope I can manage a child’s toy,” James replies with a grin.

 

“You were? See, if you’d shown up in your uniform we’d be headed in the direction of my hotel by now,” Q teases.

 

“Damn my civilian clothes. So, you have a thing for men in uniform?” James is genuinely curious since Q has never asked him to wear it and he’s never offered. Suddenly it seems like a gross oversight on his part.

 

“Who doesn’t?” Q asks in a dreamy voice.

 

“Fair point,” James concedes as they approach the boat rental stand. He stops and tells the woman behind the counter, “Je voudrais louer deux bateaux, s’il vous plaît.”

 

Q blinks at him in surprise as James lets go of his hand to pull out a wallet and pay the woman for the two boat rentals. “I thought you didn’t speak French.”

 

“Well I needed an excuse to talk to you, didn’t I?” James gives Q a devious look as he hands him a boat and stick then guides him over to the pond with a hand at the small of his back.

 

Q laughs. “And what would you have done if I did speak French?”

 

“I’m sure I would have come up with something,” James replies confidently. “You know, I think we might be the only adults doing this without the excuse of children,” he comments as they reach the pond and walk around until they get to an open area.

 

“You said fun, and toy boats are fun. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who is too cool to do ridiculous things every once in a while or I’m afraid I’m going to have to call this date off,” Q warns playfully as he sets his boat in the water.

 

“I’ll show you ridiculous,” James grins as he sets his boat in the water next to Q’s. “You go that way and I’ll go this way and I’ll race you to the other side. First one there gets to pick where we go next. Ready? Go!” James pushes his boat with the stick and chases after it, looking over his shoulder to see if Q is going to go along with it.  

 

Q is too surprised to move for a moment but then he spurs his own boat into motion and heads in the opposite direction. He didn’t expect James to do anything quite this...well... silly is the best word he can come up with. Especially since James’ half of the pond is far more populated with children and Q knows he’s going to lose already since he’s too busy looking over at James who is dodging groups of laughing children and their bemused parents and occasionally shouting that Q had better hurry up. Their race doesn’t take long to get noticed and soon shouts of encouragement in several languages fill the air as their amused audience cheers them on. By the time Q gets to the other side James is lounging against the stone side of the pond. He’s flushed from running and his smile is bright and genuine and Q suddenly understands the illogical expression, ‘my heart skipped a beat.’

 

“Nice of you to finally show up,” James drawls, captivated by how young and happy Q looks as he approaches.  

 

“You’re rather mad, aren’t you?” Q asks with a smile as he comes to lean next to James.  

 

“Rather,” James concedes, reaching out to smooth Q’s unruly hair back into some semblance of order. When Q’s breath catches and he looks at James through slightly lowered lashes James realises that they were always going to end up here. In any situation, he would always have fallen for this man. He leans in slowly, stopping just before his lips touch Q’s and he can feel the warm exhalations against his mouth.  

 

Q tilts his head instinctually for a kiss that doesn’t happen. Apparently James was serious about letting Q make all the moves. He wants the kiss, but he wants the continued seduction more, so he backs away with a coy smile. “So, where are we going next?”

 

James looks mildly surprised but he simply laces their fingers together again and asks, “How do you feel about art?”

 

“I’d be in the wrong city if I didn’t enjoy it. There’s so much here though I think it would take a lifetime to see it all.”

 

“Sadly, we only have one day. Though if it’s something that makes you smile like that I think I could put up with a lifetime, even though I don’t really know enough to speak critically about it.” James hands their sticks to a pair of boys who gratefully begin pushing the boats around and then leads Q away from the pond.  

 

“You’re sweet. But let’s see if we still like each other by the end of the day before we go discussing lifetimes,” Q replies with a soft smile. “What sort of art did you have in mind?”

 

“The Musee de Cluny is within walking distance. Its focus is Medieval art so I’m assuming that at least means some weapons and paintings of identifiable objects. I’m afraid I don’t understand the whole modern art movement.”  

 

“Medieval art sounds lovely. I prefer to see discernible skill in art as well.”

 

They continue their discussion about art as they walk to the nearby museum. For his part, Q is surprised he’s managing to be as eloquent as he is since James seems determined to turn even simple hand holding into something deliciously sensual. James’ fingers are in constant motion over his own: sliding, tracing mindless patterns, lightly teasing then gripping tighter. Q’s mind keeps flashing back to some of their more gloriously languid sex, but he knows even if they really had just met he would be fantasizing about the same thing.

 

When they arrive at the museum James pulls his wallet out to pay for the entrance fee before Q can even make an attempt at reaching into his bag. “I asked you here, so I’m buying. You can get lunch if you want, just so you don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

 

“Sounds fair,” Q replies as they enter the museum through a courtyard. “This is beautiful. Can you imagine living somewhere like this?”

 

“I wouldn’t like it I don’t think. I prefer intimate spaces that I’m positive aren’t harboring ghosts. Besides, setting up reliable wifi with all of this stone would be a nightmare.”

 

Q rolls his eyes and comments sarcastically, “Such a romantic.”

 

“And here I thought I was doing so well. Sounds like a trip to the top of the Eiffel tower after dark is in order to properly convince you of my romantic side,” James teases. Then he leans in and purrs into Q’s ear, “After a candlelight dinner, street performer concert, and sharing a bottle of wine as I feed you desert in some quiet corner of a park. What would your mouth taste like after chocolate cake I wonder?”  

 

Q can’t help shivering in anticipation. “Follow through on that plan and you might just find out,” he breathes, biting back a low whine when James’ lips brush over the shell of his ear before he pulls away.

 

“It’s a plan then,” James promises as he gently tugs on Q’s hand to get him moving again.

 

They wander through the museum, looking admiringly at the pictures. After about twenty minutes, Q gives in.  “I really don’t understand this,” he admits. “What even is happening here?”

 

“Ehm... It’s a saint. I think.” James stumbles, “If that’s a halo?”

 

Q tilts his head. “Yes, it does look like a halo. Do you think we should have taken the audio guides, though?”

 

“We could always do what you did with the statues and make it up.’”

 

Q eyes the riot of color on the nearest tapestry depicting a chaotic marketplace scene. “BBC emergency protocol ,” Q giggles, then points to a man who seems to trapped in a wooden tub filled with fruit. “So, where was the Doctor when this poor bloke needed him?”

 

They wander the exhibits, spending a bit more time at the tapestries depicting the famous lady and the unicorn. Q glances over at James and whatever he had been planning to say vanishes from his brain when he takes in the intensity of those impossibly blue eyes fixed on his own. “You’re not paying attention to the art,” he finally manages.

 

“I really am,” James counters, reaching out to trail a finger down Q’s cheek and across his lower lip. Normally, Q would tease him for using such a line, but he hopes Q lets it slide this time because it seems James is entirely serious.  

 

Q blinks at James as arousal sparks across what feels like every nerve in his body. He darts his tongue out to catch the tip of James’ finger, which freezes in its motion. “I...Christ, you can’t just say things like that without...” He gives up on speech, wraps his free hand around the back of James’ neck and guides him forward into a tentative kiss.

 

James is surprised at how much it actually feels like a first kiss all over again. His breath hitches as the memory of finally kissing Q on Skye echoes across time and settles over this moment like a double exposed photograph. He struggles to maintain his character because he knows Q wants the game to last all day, but right now what he really wants to do is drag Q into the nearest locked room and take him against a wall. To express how much he needs him, how insanely grateful he is that Q decided he was worth saving.

 

Q can feel James’ intensity through even this small connection, but still James doesn’t push for more than this slow slide of lips. James doesn’t even use his tongue, he just lets their mouths press gently together then brushes his lips lightly back and forth over Q’s in a softly erotic motion. Q shivers as the familiar image of their naked bodies sliding against each other in a similar fashion flashes through his mind. A low, needy whine escapes before he can help it then he pulls away slowly, opening his eyes to meet James’. “Damn.” He licks his lips then looks around, suddenly remembering they are in the middle of a fairly crowded gallery. “We should probably...I mean...”

 

“Yes, we should definitely get out of here,” James agrees in a slightly rough voice. He turns and begins walking in the direction of the exit, hand still gripping Q’s firmly. They don’t say anything as they leave, but they keep stealing glances at each other and smiling and James feels rather like he’s 16 and on his first date again. It’s a nice feeling.

 

“So that escalated quickly,” Q comments as James leads them up the street in the direction of the Seine.   

 

“I’m not complaining.” James winks and pulls the back of Q’s hand up for another kiss.

 

“There is no way you’re this charming all the time.”

 

“Would you like to find out?” James asks with a teasing grin.

 

“As much as I like you already, I don’t think I’m quite ready to elope,” Q laughs.

 

James’ reply comes a noticeable second too late as the idea of actually marrying Q lodges itself in his mind. He’s unprepared for the pang of real disappointment at Q’s teasing ‘no.’ “Right. Sorry, that was definitely pushing wasn’t it?”

 

“Little bit. I’ll chalk it up to being drunk on the air in the ‘city of love.’”

 

“Sounds fair. Okay, how about a walk along the Seine and across to Notre Dame? We aren’t terribly far from here.”  

 

“That I can agree to.” Q looks at James curiously but can’t very well ask him what he’s thinking without breaking character, so he files the question away for later. The walk to the cathedral is beautiful and they aren’t in a hurry so they stop frequently to look closer at the buildings, statues, and occasional street performers along the way. James is still being himself, but at his most beguiling. Q is rather disappointed he never got the chance to be pursued by James in this manner, because it’s rather exciting. They talk about architecture and history which segues into tanks somehow and they spend a long time arguing over which country had the best ones during WWII and which have the best currently. Then James buys him a rose from a vendor and has him throw the petals into the river, making a wish on each as they walk along. By the time they reach the cathedral he’s well on his way to falling in love all over again.

 

“Pictures definitely don’t do it justice,” James comments as they walk into the cathedral and begin staring up at the high arches and pillars that almost seem to defy the laws of physics. “Think we’ll get zapped by a bolt of lightening?” he whispers conspiratorially in to Q’s ear as he holds up their joined hands briefly.

 

“I think we’d be the first ones in history. Though that guy doesn’t look at all impressed,” he whispers back, nodding in the direction of a sculpture of a skeleton clearly meant to represent death that is staring eerily down at them while leaning over a dying man.  

 

“Catholicism is bloody well creepy,” James replies with barely restrained amusement coloring his voice. “I think this one is entitled, ‘A lifetime of sexual repression had better be worth it.’”

 

Q laughs aloud then claps a hand over his mouth when a nearby group of white-haired tourists shoots him a disapproving look en-masse. “Oh we are so going to hell,” he giggles as James pulls him away.  

 

“Don’t you know your Shakespeare? ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here,’” James quotes.

 

“And you know your classics? You are dangerously perfect, James.” He is genuinely surprised because he’s never known James to quote anyone before. Apparently there are still hidden depths to his lover. Then the ability for conscious thought leaves him when James pulls him behind a pillar, glances around quickly, then leans in to kiss him. He stops a fraction before their lips touch and Q closes the final distance eagerly.   

 

This time James isn’t even close to reserved when he kisses Q. He slides his tongue between Q’s parted lips immediately and tangles both hands in Q’s hair as he kisses him deeply while his body moulds itself to Q’s for the dozen or so seconds he allows the kiss to continue. When he pulls away Q is breathing hard and staring at him with lust-glazed eyes.  “You’re rather perfect yourself,” he purrs before pulling away and lacing their fingers back together and pulling Q back around the pillar as if nothing happened. “So, do you want to climb up to the tower?”

 

Q has to clamp down hard on the desire to tell James that no, fuck the tower, he wants to go back to their room and get naked. “Well if that didn’t inspire heavenly wrath I guess we should be safe,” is the shaky reply that comes out instead.

 

“My thoughts exactly,” James agrees with a grin.

 

By the time they get down from the tower Q is definitely ready for a break. He still isn’t back to his former pre-Smith state of fitness and those nearly 400 stairs took a lot out of him. “My thighs are going to be killing me in the morning,” he groans as they make their way back into the street. “The view was worth it though, and the gargoyles were pretty cool.”

 

“Sorry about the soreness factor. I’d be more than willing to give you a massage,” James offers with a devious smile.

 

“I’m sure you would. But if I let that happen something tells me I’ll end up sore for entirely different reasons,” Q replies with a teasing look of his own.

 

“Hmmm, you may have a point. Lunch break?”

 

“Sounds lovely. I’m definitely ready to rest for a while. Do you have any idea where you want to eat?”

 

“I’m formulating a plan. Let’s just head back across the bridge and look for a nice restaurant.” James hopes there is one close since he knows Q is probably more tired than he’d like to admit. Luckily there are dozens of little restaurants lining the street along the Seine and he picks the first one that is nice enough to have tablecloths on the few patio tables.  

 

Q follows James inside and watches curiously as James speaks to a server in rapid French, employing a distinctly persuasive tone of voice before handing her a few folded bills.  The young woman glances at Q with a rather sappy expression before walking away and Q wonders exactly what James told her. A few minutes later she returns and hands James a basket with a tablecloth hiding its contents. James thanks her then guides Q back out into the street.  

 

“What was all that? And wasn’t I supposed to get lunch?”

 

“You’ll see. And I wanted it to be a surprise, sorry. You can get dinner if you really want to,” he says as he hails a taxi. “It’s a bit too far to walk easily,” James comments as he ushers Q into the car ahead of him. “Jardin des Tuileries, s’il vous plaît,” he tells the driver.

 

Q supposes he should be watching the sights out the window, but he’s too captivated by watching James who is grinning like a kid on his way to the carnival. It’s been so long since Q has seen him this unabashedly happy and the feeling is definitely contagious. They really need to get away like this more often, he decides. When they get out of the taxi James leads them through a few garden paths until he apparently finds a grassy location he finds suitable.

 

James lets go of Q’s hand so that he can take the tablecloth and spread it out on the grass. “Have a seat,” he encourages as he sits down and pats the empty space next to him. “It wouldn’t be a real date in Paris without a picnic in the park, would it? Sadly I don’t have a book I can read to you while you use me as a pillow, but this is as close to movie-perfect as I can get on such short notice.”  

 

“It’s perfect enough for me,” Q assures James as he begins stripping off his socks and shoes. “Come on, you have to get into the true spirit of it,” he says, prodding James in the thigh.  

 

James shrugs and begins working on his shoes as well. “In for a penny I guess. Actually that does feel better,” he admits as he wiggles his toes and enjoys the warm sun on his bare feet. Then he reaches into the basket and begins laying the items onto the tablecloth.  A few fresh rolls, a container of various cheeses and another of sliced meats, a container filled with fresh fruit, two bottles of water, two glasses, a bottle of red wine and a wine key.  

 

Q’s eyes widen as he watches James unpack the meal. “You’re attempting to ruin me for all other dates, aren’t you?” he asks as he reaches for a roll and begins tearing it in half so he can make a sandwich.

 

“Is it working?” James winks as he begins opening the bottle of wine.

 

“Maybe,” Q replies with a coy glance from beneath his lashes.  

 

“I’ll ask you again when after I’ve finished feeding you dessert.” James hands Q a glass of wine and holds his up for Q to join him in a toast. “To unexpected pleasures,” he says, enjoying the little flip his stomach does when Q licks his lips after taking a sip.

 

Q watches the way James’ eyes fixate on his lips so he leans in and kisses him lightly.  “Consider this permission to kiss me whenever you’d like from this point on,” he murmurs before pulling away.

 

“Then it’s a good thing we have hours to go before it’s dark enough for a candlelight dinner, because it’s going to be a while before I feel like going anywhere.” He takes Q’s glass and sets it a safe distance away then angles his upper body towards Q and leans in to capture his mouth again. They don’t go back to their picnic for a long time.  

 

Q abandons himself completely to the delicious slide of lips and tongue, and it’s so much fun just kissing for the sake of kissing. When they finally do eat the atmosphere is still vibrating with sexual tension and it feels new and exciting even though he’s been with James for nearly two years now. James insists on feeding him the fruit so he returns the favor and every brush of James’ tongue against his fingers and curl of his own tongue around James’ sends thrills of arousal curling down his spine and it’s ridiculously perfect despite the cliche of it all.

 

James feels more than usually possessive of Q, and when they are finished eating and lie down on the cloth he arranges them so Q is lying on his side and resting his head on James’ chest. “Is this okay?” he asks, just to be sure even though Q is definitely not complaining.

 

“Very,” Q sighs, eyes drifting closed as the warmth of the day and the wine conspire to make him extremely sleepy. When James wraps one arm around his back and begins petting his hair Q hums and snuggles in, content to just relax into James’ familiar embrace.

 

James isn’t at all surprised when Q’s breathing evens out in sleep after just a few minutes. Q was up early today and all of that walking and climbing was more exercise than he’s had in months. James lets his hands trail lightly over Q’s body and revels in the utter contentment he’s currently feeling. Q’s little game was a brilliant idea, because it has served to remind James that even though he doesn’t take Q for granted, he doesn’t treat him like the gift he is enough either. He won’t fall asleep himself, not when Q is sleeping, because his protective instincts are too strong. Still, he closes his eyes and considers his plan for the rest of the day then just lets his mind drift.

 

When Q blinks awake he stretches slowly and almost forgets his role, but he remembers at the last second. He pushes up onto his elbow and looks down at a bemused James. “I swear I wasn’t bored of you or anything, I just didn’t sleep much last night. You make a comfy pillow though,” he says in an apologetic voice.

 

“It’s fine. Why would I complain about having a gorgeous man draped all over me?” He reaches out and ruffles Q’s hair lightly. “You snore, by the way.”

 

“I do not!”

 

“It’s kind of cute.”

 

Q buries his face in James’ neck and groans. “How about you just forget that particular detail?”

 

“I can think of one or two things that would help me forget,” James suggests as he urges Q up for a kiss.

 

 A few minutes later Q finally pulls away and looks down at James. “You are ridiculously good at that.”

 

“I’m ridiculously good at other things too,” James replies with a suggestive roll of his hips.

 

“Down tiger. The day’s not over yet, and I think I need a bit more convincing.” Q sits up and looks over at the basket. “I thought you said something about feeding me dessert.”

 

James sits up as well and reaches into the basket to pull out a small box of truffles. “I did.  You fell asleep before I could get to that part.” He takes out one of the chocolates and holds it up to Q’s lips.

 

Q darts his tongue out to lick at the bitter cocoa coating before biting half of the truffle off. He moans in appreciation at the darkly sweet flavor and quirks his lips up into a seductive smile when James’ expression turns heated. He tilts his head up in a clear offering and James immediately licks into his mouth to share the treat.  

 

James feeds Q two truffles before closing the box reluctantly. “If I give you all of them now it will ruin my plans for sharing ice cream after our ferris wheel ride.”

 

“Are you making up for some sort of missed childhood?” Q quips thoughtlessly before mentally slapping himself.

 

“Something like that,” James replies, unable to completely mask the slight tightness to his voice.

 

“Well don’t stop, because I love it.” Q kisses James playfully before getting up and holding his hand out for James to take.

 

Instead of standing, James pulls Q back down onto the cloth and starts tickling him, just for the pleasure of seeing him laugh.

 

Q giggles and struggles to escape, rolling to the side and scrambling back up onto his feet. “Okay, maybe don’t keep being a kid right now, or we’ll never get around to see the sights though. I don’t think my brother would let me live it down if I went to Paris and didn’t see the Eiffel tower.”

 

“You have a brother? Older or younger?”

 

“Older. He taught me how to drive in exchange for... No wait, this story turns work related and we promised not to talk about work. You? Siblings?”

 

“Only child.” James puts his shoes and socks back on then gets up and gathers the remains of their picnic then looks around for a bin. He decides they can just leave the basket, blanket and glasses, figuring someone else will claim them eventually.

 

Q puts on his own footwear as he replies, “Count your blessings. Being the youngest wasn’t easy.”

 

“So that’s why you’re so scawny?” James teases.

 

Q scowls and almost drops the subject, but then he spots an ice cream vendor. “Would this be a good moment to bring up the ice creams you mentioned?”

 

“It’s always a good time.” James follows Q’s gaze. “Oh, right. Ice cream it is. Ferris wheel next though.” They wander over and wait behind a small queue of giggling girls, which gives James the opportunity to rile Q up a bit more by stroking the inside of his palm. He leans in to whisper, “Any preferences?” Q looks up and James can actually see his pupils widen. “In ice cream, I meant,” he adds smirking. “Though on second thought, is there anything else you’d like me to know?”

 

Q will deny the resulting blush with his dying breath. “Lemon, if possible. You?”

 

“I’ll have a look at the offerings.”

 

“Oh, you’re _that_ kind.” Q grins teasingly.

 

James decides to ignore that, in favour of ordering. “Are you sure about just lemon? Want some chocolate with that?”

 

“That strikes me as a spectacularly bad idea. Strawberry and lemon, please.”

 

James orders two ice creams, and they pick up their route in the direction of the Ferris Wheel. “If you change your mind about lemon and chocolate let me know,” he says, waving his spoon temptingly in front of Q as they walk side by side.  

 

“I don’t know, it seems like a good way to ruin perfectly good chocolate.”

 

“Come on Artemis, where is your sense of adventure?” James taunts, dodging as Q tries to swat him on the arse.  

 

“Fine, if it that’s what it takes to shut you up,” Q gripes good-naturedly, stopping in the middle of the path to dip his spoon into James’ bowl. He grins and licks the ice cream off in an exaggeratedly seductive manner. “Huh, that’s surprisingly good,” he admits.

 

“Told you. Oh, you have a little-” James leans in and licks a stray bit of chocolate off of Q’s lower lip, pausing to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away. “Got it.”

 

Q swallows hard and tries to remember what they were talking about as he turns to continue walking. “So ah...that looks pretty high. You don’t have a problem with heights do you?”

 

“I think I’ll manage. Unless you want the excuse to hold my hand so I don’t get nervous,” he adds with a wink.

 

Q rolls his eyes. “Gods, you are a teenager.”

 

The ferris wheel turns out to be more fun than James expected, especially with the combination of Q snuggled up against him and the spectacular view. Kissing while they were stalled at the top didn’t hurt either. He’s surprised how much he actually does feel like the teenager Q accuses him of being, but he isn’t about to complain since it’s been far too long since he’s felt this sort of excitement about life.  

 

After they get off of the ride they wander in the direction of the Eiffel tower. “The Parisians originally hated the Eiffel tower, did you know that? Now we can’t imagine Paris without it,” James mentions.

 

Q nods. He read the story too at some point. They turn a corner, and suddenly the icon of Paris in front of them. “It’s so lithe,” Q says breathlessly, “I mean, it’s a little over 7000 tons, but look at her.”

 

“Want to climb it?” James offers.

 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather take the lift. I recently sustained an injury, and I’m not completely recovered yet.”

 

This time it is James’ turn to turn pale. “Of course. No problem,” he says stiffly. “Anything else I need to should take into account?”

 

Q peers into the distance. “Yikes, the length of the queue, maybe?”

 

James sees what Q is looking at and grins. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“How is that not going to take hours?” Q asks.

 

“Look carefully: how many entrances?”

 

Q frowns, and then bursts into a grin. “Four. And one queue. Nice. It’s my turn to pay by now, though,” he warns as they approach the ticket counter.

 

“The phrase you’re looking for is, ‘parlez-vous anglais?’”

 

Q gives James an ‘I’m onto you’ look. “I’m pretty sure that’s not, ‘I’d like two tickets please.’”

 

“It’s: ‘Do you speak English?’”

 

Q purses his lips, and turn to the counter. “Je voudrais deux billets, s’il vous plaît.” The lady nods, takes out two tickets, rings them up and points at the screen of the cash register.

 

James frowns. “I thought you said you didn’t speak French?”

 

“Well, I don’t. Not really. I can order a ticket or two, and say thank you. But I don’t speak the language, not really.”  As promised, Q pays. The lift takes them to the top, where they take in the city.  

 

“Good thing you’re not scared of heights, then,” James comments.

 

“Not heights. Terrible on planes though.”

 

“Also good thing you’re not in international sales, then.”

 

“I’d be terrible at that,” Q concedes. He moves a little closer to James, sidling into his personal space.

 

James wraps an arm around him, but stops himself from pressing a kiss into Q’s hair.  “I know I just met you, but I’m feeling a rather strong urge to hold you close and just pet you for a while. I feel like I should ask your permission though, since I only have permission to kiss you at this point.”  

 

Q takes a step to the side, placing himself between the railing and James’ body and leans forward onto the railing but cants his hips back so his arse presses against the front of James’ trousers. Then he tilts his head back and rests it on James’ shoulder. “Consider this permission,” he whispers into James’ neck.  

 

James resists the urge to grab Q’s hips and pull him closer, because the added pressure against his stirring cock would only be an awful tease and they are a long way from their hotel right now. Instead, he slides one hand into Q’s hair and begins massaging his scalp while the other roams freely over any bit of Q’s body it can reach. He kisses Q’s hair and breathes in the familiar scent of his shampoo, which only makes him think of Q in the shower and does nothing to tame his current state of arousal.  

 

Q closes his eyes and enjoys the breeze, the warmth of the slowly setting sun, and the sensation of James’ hands trailing over his body. He feels safe and wanted and loved and he is in absolutely no hurry to leave. He hums in contentment and angles his head back for a kiss. The angle is awkward but it’s worth it to feel the slight tremble in James’ lips that shows he is just as affected by the intimacy of the moment as Q.

 

James wraps his arms around Q’s chest and holds him close as he kisses him softly.  “You‘re amazing,” he murmurs against Q’s mouth.

 

Q turns in James’ arms so their chests are pressed together. “You hardly know me,” he replies, just because he’s curious how James will respond.

 

“I know you’re intelligent, and funny, and sweet, and gorgeous, and a bloody amazing kisser. All of that adds up to amazing in my book.”

 

Q looks for any traces of teasing in James’ eyes but doesn’t find any. “You’re pretty amazing yourself then. And we should probably move on before this gets any sappier,” he replies with a final kiss to James’ nose.  

 

James grins crookedly. “Yeah, that was pretty toothache inducing. Okay, it’s not quite candle light dinner time but we can just pick a direction and wander until we’re tired then find somewhere that looks good.”

 

“Sounds good to me. Can we make up dialogue for people as we walk?”

 

James steps back and takes Q’s hand again as they walk back towards the lift. “I’m not sure I follow.”

 

“It’s a game I used to play with my university friends. Pick a couple that is too far away to hear and just make up the conversation for them. It got pretty ridiculous during pub crawls, let me tell you!”  

 

James laughs. “I can imagine. This is definitely shaping up to be the most interesting date I’ve ever been on. So do we each pick a person to do the voices for?”

 

“That’s the idea. It’s like a live version of Mystery Science Theatre.”

 

As soon as they begin walking through the park towards the center of the city Q begins the game and before long James is wiping at his watering eyes due to laughing too hard. He wonders if this really is an old Uni game and wonders why Q has never brought it up before. When they get bored of that game they begin flipping a coin to decide if they are turning left or right at random corners and before long they are well and truly lost in Paris. On a mission James would be nervous about being lost because it could be life-threatening, but now it’s just plain fun. It’s a liberating feeling. When it’s nearly dark James spots a cozy little restaurant named La Merlotte and pulls Q across the street to request a seat.

 

“This is lovely,” Q praises as a waiter seats them at a small table against the wall. There is indeed a candle on the table, even if it is a tea light.

 

“Well it is my last opportunity to convince you that you don’t want this day to end.” James draws Q’s hand across the table and kisses it before resting their hands on the table, fingers laced.

 

“And if I don’t? What happens then?”

 

James considers for a few moments, considering his reply carefully. “Then I ask you to come back to my room. And in the morning I will do my best to convince you that you don’t want tomorrow to end either. Or the day after that. Every day, I would do my best to convince you to stay for just one more until years from now, when you decide it would be too much bother to leave. And so you stay.”  

 

Q’s breath catches at the sincerity in James’ voice and he can’t help the fleeting thought that phrased like that, it sounded a lot like a proposal. Which is ridiculous. Obviously. He opens his mouth to say something but James cuts him off.

 

“This is me saying this to you, Artemis. End scene, okay? It’s been fun, really. It was a brilliant idea but I’m ready to be us again.”

 

“Good, me too. Feel free to keep holding my hand though, I’ve enjoyed it.”

 

“So have I,” James admits. “I’m sorry I don’t treat you like you’re this special all the time. I should, because you are.”

 

“It’s okay. This level of attentiveness and seduction would be difficult to maintain. And in all honesty it would probably end up feeling rather stifling. Mind you I could do with a bit more of you feeding me chocolate. Why have you not fed me chocolate before?”

 

James puts on a dramatically contrite expression. “I’ve been remiss, you’re right.  Apologies. Truffles in bed every morning from now on.”

 

“That’s more like it,” Q grins.  

 

“So, how did I do?  Would you have fallen prey to my charms and come back to my room with me if we’d met like this?”

 

The waitress arrives and James orders in rapid French, allowing Q a moment to consider his reply. “I have to give credit where it’s due. You were very, very smooth today.  So yes, I would have come back to the hotel with you. I’m glad we didn’t meet like this though, because maybe we wouldn’t have stayed together. And that’s something I’d rather not consider, really.”

 

“Me neither,” James agrees, running his fingers over Q’s. “So how do you feel about a plan where I ply you with champagne and good food then take you back to the hotel and keep you up half the night?” James’ smile is predatory.

 

The curve of Q’s lips in return is equally laced with promise. “I have the extra truffles in my bag, so I say we skip dessert.”  

 

They stumble into their hotel room nearly two hours later and almost crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs since James has Q pressed up against the door when he opens it. Then it’s a messy scramble to get naked as soon as possible. James picks Q up and carries him over to the bed, their lips sliding together with more desperation than skill, while Q’s bunched up trousers and pants are still dangling off of one leg. He’s spent most of the day wanting this, and he is not about to be patient now.   

 

“Fuck. James, just let me--” Q kicks his leg, not easy while it’s wrapped around James’ waist, until the offending clothing falls off.

 

James just growls in response and falls onto the bed with Q, reaching a hand out to stop himself from dropping his full weight onto Q’s slender frame. Then he pulls Q into the center of the bed and slides down to begin biting and sucking at his neck. If he’s being too aggressive he knows he will feel the tension in Q’s muscles and he’s fully prepared to stop immediately, but Q only whines and arches beneath him while digging his nails deliciously into the skin of James’ back. “I need you. I need to be inside of you. Please, love,” James begs, undulating his hips so his fully erect cock slides along Q’s.

 

“Yessss,” Q hisses, flailing his arm out to the bedside table where they left the lube last night. They’ve long since learned to leave the ‘do not disturb’ sign out so as not to shock the staff, and besides, James is far too professionally paranoid to let anyone into the room even to clean it more often than strictly necessary.

 

James takes the bottle and squirts some of the slick lube into his hand without looking then brings his fingers down to tease at Q’s entrance for a moment before sliding a finger in, hoping that Q still likes it to burn a bit when he’s in this sort of desperate mood.

 

Q makes a choked noise of pleasure and plants his feet on the bed so he can shift his hips up and force James’ finger deeper. He spares a moment to check his emotions but finds that yes, all he is feeling is need and pleasure. The mild pain is nothing but welcome and he wants more. “Another,” he pants, shifting back then up into the pressure so James believes that he really wants it.

 

James knows better than to question Q at times like this, and he’s confident Q would never lie about his desires just to please him, so he does as requested. His immediate reward is another gorgeous whimper as Q throws his head back and bites his lip and holy fucking hell is that hot. James ducks his head to lick a path up from the hollow of Q’s throat, across his stubble and into his mouth.

 

Q bites at James’ lips a bit harder than he had planned, but James only moans his approval and offers his neck for the same rough treatment. Q writhes beneath James and bites his neck hard just beneath his jaw, and how much he wants this both surprises and pleases him because it means he really must be healing from the hell Smith put them through. And when even that thought does nothing to dampen his desire, he grins and orders, “another.”  

 

James suspects that he can actually feel his cock leaking onto Q’s as he pulls his fingers back then slides three into Q’s welcoming heat and twists them back in just the way he knows drives his lover crazy. He’s struggling to maintain some sense of control and his muscles are trembling with restraint as he slides his body up and down over Q’s, reveling in the sheen of sweat and the heavy scent of sex that surrounds them.

  
“Enough. I want you inside of me, and I don’t want you to hold anything back. Show me how much you want me, James,” Q purrs.  

 

The protective part of James’ mind is telling him that he still needs to be gentle with Q, but it loses out to the baser instincts which are screaming at him to give Q exactly what he’s asking for. He slips his fingers out, lines his cock up, slides his arms beneath Q’s back and wraps his hands up around his shoulders for leverage then presses in steadily until they are as connected as physically possible.

 

Q presses his ankles against the backs of James’ thighs, pulls him in as close as he can, and then all higher brain functions seem to cease. It is glorious. He doesn’t have to think about anything other than the sparks shooting across his entire nervous system as James’ cock fills him, skims over his prostate and makes him tremble and whine and murmur something about _more, more, more_.

 

Q’s obvious and uninhibited pleasure undoes James completely. He holds Q close and fucks into him hard, makes sure the planes of his stomach slide against Q’s cock, and  abandons himself to the sheer joy of their mutual pleasure and in loving someone who loves him this much in return. He kisses Q hard and deep and consuming and James can’t help smiling against Q’s mouth, and then before long, just as the spiraling pleasure of his orgasm builds, he begins to laugh.

 

Q is practically in another world when he feels the muscles of James’ stomach quiver delightfully as laughs, and instead of being confused or upset Q understands completely. This is what it feels like to be absolutely, stupidly in love. The laughter triggers his own, partly because he can actually feel the vibrations from it in James’ cock and partly because he is still high on carefree atmosphere of the day. When he feels James’ hips stutter and his muscles tense as he comes, Q tumbles over into his own laughter-filled orgasm.

 

James rolls carefully off then lays his head on Q’s chest and holds him close as their breathing evens back out. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear. I don’t know where that came from,” he promises, placing a kiss on Q’s sternum.

 

Q ignores the slick feeling between the cheeks of his arse and runs his hands over James’ back. “It’s ok, I know you weren’t. I liked it, actually. I haven’t seen you in this kind of crazy good mood for far too long.”

 

“Maybe there is something to the whole Paris myth,” James muses, toying idly with the sweat-slicked hairs beneath Q’s navel.

 

“Well whatever it is, I’m not complaining.”

 

“You’ll be complaining about being uncomfortable soon enough though. I should get us something to clean up with.” He reluctantly gets off of the bed to go clean himself up and get a warm washcloth for Q. When he returns he cleans Q gently then climbs back in bed so they can arrange themselves into a comfortable tangle of limbs.

 

“Thank you for today, James,” Q whispers, already half asleep.

 

“Same,” James replies before kissing Q’s hair and following him into dreams.  

 

They spend the next few days wandering Paris and simply enjoying being tourists together. They save the Louvre for the last day and Q insists they spend the entire day there, arguing that it would take weeks to see everything so a day isn’t asking too much. James agrees as long as Q promises to make it more interesting by turning it into a joint surveillance mission. He is still determined to sneak back in after hours and find the cool art he suspects is kept hidden in storage areas beneath the Louvre.  

 

“You know,” Q points out, “we need to check out this morning anyways. The better plan would be to have the car all packed so that it’s ready for a fast getaway if we need one, and just to sneak down right before closing. That way we’re already in the building and don’t have to go to the trouble of breaking back in.”

 

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” James declares.

 

“Because I’m the only one who will put up with your criminal tendencies?”

 

“Exactly.” James kisses Q on the forehead then goes about gathering their belongings from the far corners of the room.  

 

Q leaves James to pack while he works on hacking Synel, the security firm tasked with security at the Louvre. It’s a lovely, complicated system and Q enjoys the challenge.  Unsurprisingly, while whoever is in charge over there is good, Q is better. He decides that he’ll send a few friendly untraceable suggestions for improved online security measures once they are safely out of there. By the time they leave to check out, he has a copy of the entire schematics of the Louvre and override codes that will allow them access to any secured areas.

 

James is surprised by how much he actually enjoys the museum. He hadn’t realized it wasn’t just a bunch of paintings on walls, and he has a great time examining ancient weaponry and discussing its various merits and how the innovations, however insignificant they seem now, likely shaped the course of history. James surreptitiously checks out the security officers and assesses their level of caution and is pleased to note that the atmosphere seems laid back and no one is on high alert.  

 

After a light dinner in the cafeteria they wander down to the lower ground floor with a half hour remaining until the museum closes. Q guides them down to a cordoned off area near a closed exhibit, takes out his phone and pretends to be irritated by checking for service, and shuts down the nearby security camera just long enough for them to step in and get through the theoretically secured door.

 

James is vibrating with excitement as they work their way down a hallway then through another door.

 

“Good lord, are you always like this on missions?” Q teases as James rubs his hands together gleefully and sets to picking the lock on what should be the final door down into the old tunnels beneath the building.

 

“Only the fun ones. You should ensure I get more fun ones. Like the time I got to break into that fancy bank and steal the Queen’s necklace back.”

 

Q rolls his eyes  “From what I hear, you didn’t strictly _have_ to booby trap the safe with a dozen exploding pens on your way out.”

 

“Boothroyd kept giving me the damn things. It would have hurt his feelings if I didn’t find some way to actually use them!” James protests with a grin as the door clicks open.

 

“And this is why you’ve been relegated to a gun and radio,” Q accuses fondly as he follows James into the darkness. He pulls a small torch of his bag and hands another to James. “Lay on, Macduff.”

 

“Isn’t it ‘lead on?’”

 

“Don’t challenge me when it comes to Shakespeare, James. That’s just a common misquote.”  

 

“Literary snob,” James accuses good-naturedly as he makes his way down the tunnel.  

 

They do manage to find a series of rooms filled with various sculptures and one giant stone sarcophagus. James is thrilled they get to actually touch the things, which Q finds oddly endearing. However, as he ducks behind a giant vase he decides what he will remember best about this little adventure is their current mad dash through a series of maze-like tunnels with one rather irate French guard in pursuit.

 

“Shh!” James whispers as the sound of shoes rapidly pounding against the stone floor moves past them. He contains his laughter in the face of Q’s attempt at a glare, but it’s a very near thing.     

 

“Unoccupied tunnels, you said. No one will be down there, you said!” Q hisses as he peeks out from their most recent hiding spot.

 

“Well I was hardly expecting to discover someone’s private break room! I’m sure I could handle him, but I’d really rather escape without the problem of an unconscious guard. Let’s just get out of here, he hasn’t gotten a close enough look to identify either of us.”

 

“Fine. There should be a door about twenty meters down the hall that leads to some sort of old sewer. We should find above-ground access there. But I swear to all the gods James, if your thrill-seeking tendencies lead me to any giant mutant sewer creatures I will personally ensure your next mission is to Wisconsin.”

 

“I promise to defend you from any mutant creatures we encounter,” James offers gallantly as he pulls Q out from behind the vase. He sprints down the hall with Q in tow and they barrel through the door. They have to climb down a short ladder into the old sewer system, and James breathes a sigh of relief when it turns out to be dry and out of use. They have to duck, but there is daylight coming from somewhere ahead of them.

 

“This is by far the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” Q gripes with a laugh.  “At least the view is nice,” he comments as he watches James’ arse appreciatively.  

 

“You’re having the time of your life, don’t even pretend you’re not,” James replies as he uses the torch to avoid tripping over bits of broken stone.

 

“True,” Q admits. James is right, he really is having fun. “That doesn’t mean I want all our dates to end in breaking and entering though, so don’t get any bright ideas.”

 

“How about just the anniversaries?” James asks as they arrive at the metal ladder leading up to a grate a good ten meters above their heads.

 

“I’ll consider it. As long as this exit doesn’t land us smack in the middle of a tiger cage or something, and knowing our luck...”

 

“I’ll go first, just in case,” James says with a grin. He leans in and kisses Q hard. “I love you.”

 

Q smiles at the unexpected words. “As you should,” he replies with a smirk.

 

Thankfully the grate leads up to a little-used corner of the Jardin des Tuileries so only one confused couple witnesses their bizarre entrance into the park. James waves at them as they walk away and calls, “Don’t take the tour of the Paris underground- they lose people!”

 

“You’re evil,” Q accuses as they wander back in the direction of the Louvre to find their car. Once they are safely on the road and headed out of Paris, Q sends an email to a CEO of Synel with a helpful list of security upgrade protocols.

 

It takes a full hour for James’ mobile to ring. When he sees who it is he grins and puts the phone on speaker. Mallory’s irritated voice fills the car.  

 

_“Tell me you are not in Paris, 007!”_

 

“I’m not in Paris,” James replies honestly, knowing Q has removed all tracking devices from their mobiles so there is no way to easily tell if he’s lying or not.

 

_“You’d damn well better not be! The French are up in arms over some sort of security breach in the Louvre, and their security company is in a panic over an anonymous email detailing how to fix the issue that allowed the breach in the first place. I assured them we had nothing to do with it.”_

 

“Of course we didn’t. That would be absurd,” Q say in a tone that is entirely too innocent.

 

Mallory’s sigh is audible. “ _Just try not to start any wars!_ ” he orders before ringing off.

 

James grins at Q and laces their fingers together. “So, where to next?”

 

 


	7. Tuscany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop: Italy -via France though. Liberties were taken with Luccan topography, as Google Maps and Hedwig_dordt’s memories of a trip to Tuscany serve as most important sources.

James wakes up to a half-remembered dream of of their flat. He isn’t sure what he was dreaming exactly, except it involved coming home. It sets his nostalgic mood for the remainder of the morning, which is spent packing their bags into the car, Q programming the navigation system, and bickering over who gets to take the first shift driving. Q relents, tossing James the keys. They change places just after Availlon. He watches Q from the corners of his eyes, but Q seems content simply observing the green hills occasionally dotted with villages. Fragments of his dream, of their home and life together still nag at the corners of his mind. The subject of returning to their regular life raises its head. Which brings with it the question regarding what he’ll be doing upon returning to London. He’s always assumed he’d be a double oh, and then die. But now, the notion of building a future with Q sounds infinitely better than keep trying to beat the uncomfortable odds of ending up dead. 

“Q, when we’re back home...” he tries.

“Hey, I thought we were going to Italy!” Q smirks at him, “Or would you rather soak in the rain, at about 12 degrees?”

“Not at all, and I’m look forward to feeding you, and swimming and making up the dedications of monuments. But I was dreaming of our flat this morning.”

“Then eating and swimming and mystery science theatre is what we’ll do. We’ll worry about the rest later, okay?” Q tries his hardest to sound breezy, though his stomach clenches. Yes, he knows this vacation will end, but no, he does not want to talk about it. Yes, he knows that being an agent is more like a calling than an actual job. Yes, he will keep on doing everything he can to keep his agent alive. And yes, he knows that one day he will fail. And he can’t bear to think of that just yet. For now, he wants a bit of sunshine, a silly book and his boyfriend. All to himself. For just a little while he doesn’t want to share James with MI6. He stares out of the window, trying to focus on the scenery.

In Lyon they shop for groceries and lunch in the shade of some trees by the river. They eat, mostly in silence, but it’s not their regular companionable silence. Q’s lack of substantive response concerns James a little. Usually Q isn’t one to shy away from their conversations, so shutting down like this isn’t his style. James wonders what the problem is. Unable to come up with a satisfying answer, he mentally shelves the questions and returns to considering alternatives within MI6. Q takes the first shift driving after lunch, leaving James the opportunity to keep studying his lover's profile in an effort to figure out what’s wrong. Q’s features are closed off, a mask. A pleasant mask to look at, but one intended to keep James out. "Are you angry with me over something?" James finally asks.

"No." 

Q’s reply is terse and entirely unhelpful, leaving James with the question of how to break the tension between them and put a smile back on his lips. He is certain Q would know how to do that for him, and feels a vague sense of failure at not being able to provide the same in return. When they stop to change places again, Q grabs James’ hand to pull him in for a kiss that’s half desperation, half apology. “I’m sorry?” James tries. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?” Q just lets go of him and hands him the keys. “Okay, let’s go on then,” James says, accepting the keys. “We have quite a bit of driving to do." 

They get in the car, Q in the passenger seat this time. "Okay, so you were dreaming about the flat," Q says. "If this were psych eval I'd be asking what that means to you."

James smirks a little. "It was about home. Coming home. To you."

"Of course you were coming home. I'm your quartermaster."

"Cocky."

"Healthy self-confidence."

"I've been trying to imagine a future out of the Double Oh programme."

"Which you can't." 

"Possibly Analysis, or in training."

"Because you live for that: the thrill of the chase, the service to our country.”

“And I’m not getting any younger, so it’s something I need to consider anyway.”

“It’s not just what you do, it’s what you are. I get that.”

“Q? Are you even listening to what I’m saying here?”

“I accept that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt occasionally.”

“Artemis!”

Startled, Q looks up.

“You’re really not listening to me, are you?”

“I am too!”

“What did I just say then?”

“That’s incredibly juvenile,” Q complains.

“I was trying to tell you I’m considering another position within MI6. Because you’re only about half-right. Below your average, I’d say.”

Q opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to stick in his throat so he just gapes at James.

"Close your mouth, it's unbecoming." Bond adds, but without real venom.

"You're... what?"

"I'm not getting any younger. Yes, I'm good, but I might be of more use to her Majesty if I transfer some of the experience to the next generation."

"I don't know what to say."

James smirks at that. "Me neither. I haven't really thought this through either, honestly. I mean, I obviously need to do something. Half the problem when I was recovering was boredom and feeling useless."

"Do make and effort to teach the newbies to do as you say and not to do as you do in regards to your equipment."

"And they are not to paw the quartermaster, either." 

Q laughs louder than the feeble joke warrants. The rest of the trip to Le Lavandou they spend making up ever more ridiculous jobs James could hold: film star for recruitment ads, quality control tester for Q’s more explosive prototypes, Pterodactyl trainer once Q figures out how to clone them... 

“Alright, that’s it, I’m calling you tea boy for the rest of eternity,” Q grins. James sighs in resignation. “I think we found the hotel. Look, over there.” Q points. 

“I think you’re right, and so does the navigation system.” When checking in, the receptionist tells them that the restaurants will likely still be open after they get settled in. Breakfast can be brought to their room, no problem.

“I am knackered,” Q announces, putting his bag on a chair once they enter their room. 

James is having none of it. “It’s our first night on the Mediterranean. I’m going for a swim, and you’re coming too. I’ll go looking for the towels.” With that, James disappears into the adjoining bathroom, returning a few minutes later with two big towels. Q concludes that James must have planned this, because he pulls his trunks out of the top of his bag. 

Q concedes and goes to rummage in his bag to find his own. Now that he thinks about it, seeing James dripping wet in his devilishly tight swim trunks sounds much better than sleep.

There are a few other couples still scattered across the beach and in the water, but that doesn’t stop James from pulling Q close and kissing him senseless once they’re waist deep in the gentle waves after splashing their way in at a run. The water is cool and refreshing, and glitters in stunning shades of red and gold in the setting sun. Q’s skin looks burnished as well, and beautiful despite the remaining whip marks that haven’t faded completely. James bends and licks over one of them gently, tasting the distinct, salty flavor of the Mediterranean. Q wraps his arms around James’ neck as he looks out at the water. “It’s beautiful.” 

“It is,” James agrees, grinning as he runs his hands over Q’s back to lull him into a false sense of security before pulling him over sideways and under the water.

Q comes up sputtering and swearing. “Oh you are asking for it Bond,” he threatens laughingly, diving for James and trying to shove his head beneath the waves. The resulting chase and slippery wrestling match ends in a lazy snogging session on the shore while Q ignores the feeling of sand absolutely everywhere. By the time they are ready to move the sun has set and the temperature is dropping fast and Q is shivering. 

“Hot shower?” asks James.

“Oh yes. Then I’m going to sleep like the dead,” Q announces.

And I’ll hold you for as long as I can stay awake, James thinks to himself as they enter their rooms.

The next morning, Q considers waking James up by nibbling his earlobes but decides against it on account of James’ return to his hair-trigger reactions after the months spent in Smith’s organization. He is reasonably sure James wouldn’t kill him, but it seems like a bad time to find out. Instead he snuggles up against the expanse of warm skin, allowing James to wake up to find him aroused in his own time. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Bloody teenager,” James mutters from under the covers.

“Good morning sunshine,” Q singsongs. “No need to rise and shine just yet.” Pressing a kiss on the blonde hairs, he adds, “maybe just rise.”

“And you complain about my lines?” James grumbles.

Q doubles his assault, licking a trail down James’ throat to his collar bone, then gently biting his way down further to find James’ nipples and sucking, first on the left, then climbing over him to give him room to slip his hand over James’ cock. James groans at his clever hand. “Relax, I’ve got you love,” Q whispers into his ear before crawling down to take James’ hardening cock into his mouth. James moans and strokes Q´s hair encouragingly. Slowly, Q moves his head up with as little pressure as he can manage without letting go. Satisfied to see James chasing the contact, Q takes him back in, fast and with as much pressure as he can manage. He slips a finger over James’ balls and perineum.

“Q...” James moans. 

Q stops to open his mouth, taking James’ cock into his hand, and replies with his most innocent voice. “Yes, dear?”

James gasps for breath. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Q grins as he resumes sucking, but keeps changing the rhythm and pressure until James is clawing the sheets and leaking precome almost obscenely. Q stops for a second to enjoy seeing James completely debauched, and then takes mercy. He settles on a rhythm, taking James in as deeply as he can manage. It feels like seconds before James comes, messily and noisily.

James pulls Q back up to kiss him before praising, “I keep thinking you can’t possibly get better at this. And then you do.” There’s a loud knock on the door followed by, “Room service!” Belatedly, James remembers asking for their breakfast to be brought to their room. “Give me a second!” he calls, putting on a bathrobe while Q burrows under the sheet. James opens the door to a young woman carrying a tray with coffee and croissants. 

“Here you are. Will you be needing anything else?” she asks.

“No, miss, I think we’re all settled. Thank you.” James replies politely.

“Excellent. Have a pleasant morning and enjoy your breakfast.”

“Thank you, miss.” James replies as blandly as he can manage.

When the lady leaves the room, James pours two cups of coffee and balances them on a plate with two croissants. He puts the plate down on the bedside table and offers Q one of the croissants. Rather than taking the croissant James is offering, Q takes a bite out of it. Chewing, Q asks, “Should we go exploring the town? Or are you feeling like doing nothing on the beach?”

“I’ll go mad with another day doing nothing; let’s go exploring. Have you been checking the recommendations?” James asks, offering the croissant again. 

Q chews, swallow and grins. “You might remember I was a little occupied this morning.”

“Take your croissant, dear, I’m not hand-feeding any longer than strictly necessary.”

“So packing a bag and doing actual exploring? Works for me. Could you pass me a cup of coffee?”

James mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘pretty princess’, but hands Q a cup of coffee with ample cream and sugar, followed by the croissant that he started. 

Le Lavandou turns out to have a quaint city center, which James declares to be completely typical for a Mediterranean town. They shop for a picnic lunch then find a bench that still has a semblance of shadow from the palm trees, overlooking the sea.

They share a plate of tomatoes and olives with a glass of wine. “Can't we just do this forever?” Q sighs, looking over the village square.

“You'd be bored senseless.”

“You could keep me busy,” Q suggests.

“I'll keep trying,” James replies earnestly. “Do you want to stay in town for dinner?”

“We might as well.”

Q gathers his courage. “James, about what we talked about yesterday?”

“Which thing?”

“The... work one.” Q quietly curses his inability to turn his questions into proper sentences. “Are you sure?”

“Sure about what?” James asks in return. “About wanting to come home to you? Absolutely.”

“And you'd leave the double oh program for that?”

“It's not a life sentence.”

Q bites his lip, frowning.

“That was a bad analogy,” James admits. “I mean, there is a mandatory age of retirement, and I now have a reason to want to make it and live beyond that. That leaves me in a difficult position to do my job. I can't- I mean I don't want to- risk everything anymore, Q. I'm not alone now.”

“I'd bring you home,” Q says confidently.

“But at what price? I'm not sure how much more I can take. This was never a problem before. I'm in unknown territory now. I never imagined I’d get this...old. Or attached, for that matter.”

Q hums understandingly. “We'll think of something.”

“And we will talk about it. No unilateral decision-making.”

“That got through to you, then?”

A casual observer wouldn’t have noticed how James flinches at that, before nodding. “It did. But it works both ways -you know that too, right? You've saved me twice now.”

“I'm not keeping count,” Q says airily. “But does that mean I get to pick the wine with dinner?”

“Absolutely not. You'd pick some horridly sweet rosé that clashes with everything it’s served with.”

“That's it. We're having the rosé at the earliest opportunity.”

After lunch, they stroll back to the hotel to take a nap. When the sun is no longer scorching, they return to town looking for a restaurant. They find a nice little place, with already quite a few native French speakers inside. They are brought to the table, where they order drinks. When their waiter returns, James automatically holds out his hand for the menu. 

The waiter looks puzzled. “Did I forget anything?”

“Not at all. That is, I expected to see the menu.”

“We don't have one,” the waiter explains in accented English. “We serve a menu of the day, based on today's... ah... produce?”

James looks at Q, who shrugs in agreement.

“The menu du jour then, for two please.”

“Avec plaisir,” the waiter replies.

A couple of minutes later the waiter returns with a basket of bread and some olive oil. James breaks off some of the bread, dips it in the oil and feeds it to Q. Q retaliates by licking off some of the oil from James’ hand.

“I thought you weren’t hand-feeding me anymore,” Q teases, chewing the bread. 

“I said not unless I think it’s necessary,” James reminds him.

Q demonstratively puts his hands around his back and opens his mouth, just as the waiter returns with their plate. Q picks up his cutlery after a second of hesitation. He flakes some of the grilled tuna and puts it in mouth with a bit of tomato. He moans in surprise and pleasure.

“First time fresh tuna?” James lifts an eyebrow. Q nods, eyes closed. James puts down his fork to enjoy the visuals for a bit. He watches Q’s adam’s apple move as he swallows, meeting Q’s eyes when Q opens them again and smiling a little when Q blushes. Q scowls and stabs the green beans with slightly more force than strictly necessary. James grins and decides to attempt to make Q blush even more by exaggerating his appreciative sounds. He begins purring and moaning at the vegetables and the sauce. He's enjoying his dinner, but he enjoys riling up Q even more. When the clafoutis is served, he notices Q adjusting his trousers for something other than too much dinner.

“Want to head back or would you like another...” James begins to ask.

“Hotel room does sound rather good,” Q interrupts.

“I thought it might.”

As James closes the door to their room behind them, Q is already throwing his arms around James, pulling him in for a kiss and leaving James to kick the door closed. James allows Q to crowd him against the wall, taking his time to explore. Q pulls his hands together over his head against the wall with his left hand, using his right to undo the button and fly on James´ jeans. James cants his hips, because he wants Q to see, to feel that everything is okay, more than okay.

Q starts opening James´ button down, kissing the newly exposed skin. “You still taste delicious.” Q lets go of James’ hands to slip off the shirt, and then slides his hands over James’ arse, squeezes appreciatively, then shoves the pants and jeans down. “Bed,” he murmurs. 

James walks over to the bed slowly, making sure Q gets a good eyeful, before laying himself down. Sometimes it still shocks him how much he wants this, how no matter how many times they have sex he still isn’t bored, still wants more.

Q watches intently and turns around to take off his shirt before unbuttoning his jeans, wiggling his hips to get his jeans and pants down over hips and step out of them. He straddles James for another kiss. Q breaks the kiss to retrieve the lube from the bedside table. “Prep me?” he asks. James just nods and opens his hand to allow Q to squirt some lube onto his fingers. Q moves a little to allow James better access. He moans encouragingly when James tests with one finger. James rewards his sounds with with another kiss. Q cants his hips reflexively, but realises it doesn't help at all and pulls an almost hollow back. “I can feel you smiling,” Q says.

James nips at his lip. “Problem?”

“Not at all, carry on. And for heaven’s sake don’t keep calm about it.”

James doesn’t bother to reply, but adds another finger and pushes a little deeper, pulling Q a little closer. He buries his face in the nook of Q’s neck, taking in his scent and committing it to memory. He nuzzles for a bit, pleased to note the elevated heart rate. Not that he actually needs it; he can feel the evidence of Q’s arousal against his abdomen. “Ready?” he asks. 

“Yes, very,” Q replies. “How do you want me?”

“Oh, have I been that good today?” James teases. “On your back, I want to see your face.” 

Q nods and gets off James’ lap to lie down, stretching himself out unselfconsciously and staring back at James, who takes a moment to appreciate the elegant lines of Q’s form. “In your own time.”

“Oh, but quite quickly?” James grins. “Pull up your knees, smart mouth.” James lines himself up and gently pushes in. Q immediately pushes up his hips, forcing James to go deeper. James pulls back a bit, drawing a whimper of frustration from Q, then pushes back in. He leans forward and supports his weight on his arms. “Oh, you feel so good,” he breathes into Q’s ear. Q just wraps his arms around him to pull him in harder. James starts to thrust in earnest, burying himself in Q’s willing body. Then he shifts his weight to one side and wraps his free hand around Q’s cock.

Q whines now that James is finally fucking him in earnest and he meets the thrusts to set a glorious rhythm. When James adds friction to his cock, he can feel his orgasm building already. He surrenders to it, chasing the sensations until he hears James’ sultriest voice whisper, “come for me, love”. He closes his eyes and lets his orgasm ripple through him.

James watches Q come in response to his words and attempts to hold back for a bit to allow him to recover, but Q pushes back, drawing him back in.

“No, harder,” Q begs. “Please.” 

Pleased, James settles back on both arms and thrusts into Q’s body, Q’s wonderful body, chasing his arousal until he bites down on Q’s shoulder as his release spirals through him.

Q draws James closer still and whispers, “I love you.” 

James bites his earlobe. “I love you too.”

“We’re still damned good at this.”

James just hums his assent.

“I wonder what we’ll be like when we’re old.”

“You mean when you’re old too? The same, but with creakier joints, I suppose.”

“We do keep them in good condition this way, I think.”

James makes a face, “If you don’t mind, I rather hope there’s more to our sex life than keeping your joints... Oh, I’m not even going to finish this thought.” Q is already laughing. James rolls off him onto his side and holds up his arm, inviting Q to snuggle in. “Now come over here, I’d like to hold you while falling asleep.” 

Q finds the corners of the sheet and arranges it around them, then burrows in against James. “Happy?” he asks. 

“Ecstatic,” James replies in a mildly sarcastic tone, but underneath it lies genuine affection.

The next morning they pack their bags for another day of driving. Q is studying the map on his laptop. “Given our time of departure, I think Sienna is a bit ambitious,” he mutters. 

“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” James replies. “And if you don’t put your bags in the trunk we’ll never cross the border anyway.”

Q closes the laptop and puts it into his smaller bag, then carries it to the corridor. James takes one last look to see if they’ve forgotten anything and joins him a minute later. They pay at the reception, and put their bags in the car.

“You want to go first?” Q asks.

“Sure. You figure out the route, then.”

Q pulls up the satellite navigation. “What should we aim for?”

“Anything across the Italian border will do for now.” James starts the engine. 

Q frowns, staring at the screen, and decides to set Lucca as their destination for now. If they make it in good time, they can always decide to travel further, but if not, it will be pleasant enough. The A8 takes them through the lush green landscapes of France, especially pleasant as the air conditioning is working. It takes them a little over two hours to cross the border into Italy, where they change places. They leave the the pre-set route in Arenzano to stop for lunch at a seaside restaurant. Q orders tuna again. “It worked last time”, he points out when he sees James’ grin, and starts looking up hotel recommendations for Lucca. 

“Anything in particular you want me to look for?” Q asks.

“Are you sure you need to ask that? You set up a complete house. I figure you can book a hotel.”

“I figured I should ask anyway. Since we both need practice at ‘use your words.’ ”

“A pool would be nice.”

Q nods and adds ‘swimming pool’ to his search. He turns the laptop around. “Does this look acceptable?”

“It does to me,” James nods.

“I’ve sent them an email to ask if there’s a room for two.”

“Fine. Would you like to drive?”

“Nah, you go on.”

James picks up the keys. “Let’s go then.”

They cross the border between France and Italy, marked by now defunct customs stops. The landscape doesn't change much: it is still rippling hills with vineyards and olive gardens. When they pass a little river Q asks idly, “Is this where they also grow rice?”

“No, that's to the east. They have actual rice paddies there, I believe.”

“Oh yes, I remember the satellite imagery. Gorgeous terraces.”

“Change of route?”

Q's phone dings with an email alert. He picks up his phone to see what just came in. “No, they've just confirmed our reservation; we're going to Lucca now.” He looks outside. “It is gorgeous, isn't it? Do you think people who live here still realise that?”

“Given that Italians often remain in the country to spend their holidays and Brits tend to mass migrate, I'd say they do.”

“Good. Seems a waste otherwise.” Q looks to the driver's seat. “View isn't bad from here either, though.”

They arrive in Lucca at the end of the afternoon, and find the hotel to their liking.

“A bit of a tour of town in order to find ourselves a proper place to eat?” James suggests.

“Should I look something up or are we just going to follow our feet?”

“Follow our feet?”

Q nods, but slips his phone into his pocket just in case. James pretends not to notice. If Q made MI6's youngest quartermaster by being prepared, he is the oldest living double of for noticing things.

Lucca is a small north Italian town, and it is adorable. There is no other word for it. Its famous circular square, the painted houses, the little alleyways, it is everything a tourist could wish for.

“That little place seems rather busy already.” James nods at a relatively busy restaurant. “Want to check if they have an unreserved table?” 

Q looks at the menu. “I'll hack their reservation system from my phone if I have to.” 

They flag a waiter and James inquires whether there is a place for them. The waiter beckons for them to wait and walks over to a lectern, with a big book on it.

“So much for hacking their system,” James mutters under his breath.

“I could always cause a minor explosion, more drama than damages, and pencil us in.”

James laughs. “You would at that.”

“And you like it.”

“God help me, I do.”

The waiter returns to tell them there will be a free spot outside in an hour, and would they like to wait at the bar? With some antipasti perhaps? Q nods enthusiastically, and James gestures him in. Over two glasses of crisp white wine they sample the grilled zucchini, prosciutto and some olives. Before long, another waiter comes to bring them to their table.

“Would you like to see the menu or have you decided already?”

Q looks over at James. “Have you? I know I have.”

“Oh yes, the menu of the day for me please,” James says.

“And for me too, please.” Q adds.

“Menu del giorno per due,” the waiter mutters, penning down their order, and then asks,“Wine?”

“Is there a regular pairing?”

“Yes, but we also have a better option.”

“Let's have it for two, please.”

“Excellent.” The waiter jots down their order in his notebook, and goes back inside to instruct the kitchen. A younger man comes back out with their wine. A good fifteen minutes later the young man returns with two plates of risotto, with a spiral of pesto in it.

“This might be the most gloriously delicious thing I have ever eaten,” Q declares, moaning indecently. “Are you absolutely certain this is cooked rice? I feel I've been ordering the wrong kind of take-out my whole life.”

“Softened onion, splash of wine, proper broth and slowly stirred into a creamy pudding. I'd say 'cooked rice' doesn't really do it justice. I think this pesto is doing wonders for it too. Try it on its own.”

Q scrapes some of the pesto off the rice and tastes it. His eyes widen in surprise. “The supermarket has been lying to me.” 

James laughs a little. “In a word: yes. I think this one is home made. With basil and proper oil, rather than potato starch and sunflower oil. This is a rather lemony one, to complement the creaminess of the rice.”

“Were you watching cooking shows while recovering?” Q asks, “Or are you just making this up as you go along to hit my competence kink?”

“Should I do the wine too?”

“We’d get thrown out,” Q giggles. 

“Is that supposed to be a reason not to?”

“Well not before I finish this. Sheesh, this is good. Can you do this? Back home?”

James raises eyebrow. “Well, I suppose with sufficient incentive, I might be persuaded to make an attempt.” Q ignores the bait in favour of another forkful of rice. James makes a mental note to figure out how to make risotto. 

Q looks around to see if anyone is watching, and satisfied nobody is paying them any mind, he licks the last bits of creaminess from his plate. "That was heaven."

James laughs quietly. 

The waiter notices their empty plates and comes to clear them. "You liked it?" He asks. 

"Very much. Thank you," Q replies.

The waiter stacks up the plates and cutlery.

"I'm half considering to take up cookery classes if this is what it gets me," James quips.

"Not enough explosions," Q counters.

"Maybe that newfangled chemical cooking?"

Q looks doubtful. "I prefer regular food I think. And I don’t think you want to completely leave the service."

"Pathetic love for my country."

Q grins. "Could be put to good use though. Apart from your tendency to blow things up, we might have a good chance for you to train the young hatchlings."

"Do as I say, don't do as I do?"

"And do as your handler tells you."

James adds menacingly, "And no pawing the quartermaster, if you value your life."

“No intimidating the new recruits, James.”

“How else will they learn, Q?”

Q decides not to reply, and instead smiles widely at the waiter who is bringing dessert. James tilts his head to appreciate Q’s delirious smile after his first bite of tiramisu. He deliberately goes slowly on his plate, while Q devours his own. When Q finishes his plate, James scoops up a piece. “Care for another bite?” James asks offering the spoonful. Without taking time to answer, Q leans in to take the offered bit. 

“It tastes even better off your spoon,” Q says, licking his lips. 

With a put-upon sigh and a contradictory pleased look in his eyesJames offers him the next bite. And the next, until his plate is empty too. They debate coffee, but decide to leave. They settle the bill and leave, thanking the staff for their generous service.

“Do you want to head to bed, or do you want to go exploring some more?” James asks.

“I’m not really tired yet. And it’s really not cold at all.”

“Outside it is.” James agrees. They walk towards the river Serchio, and sit down on the riverside. 

Q plies himself against James and lays his head on James’ shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

James presses a kiss into Q’s hair. “I could stay here forever.”

Q sighs happily. “But we have too much left to see, so won’t.” He looks up at James and smiles. “Where do you want to go next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Austria. With more smut, we promise.


	8. Austria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, lovely readers!! We are rewarding you with just over 13,000 words and lots of lovely sex so hopefully we are forgiven! This story is almost finished- we think the next chapter should bring it to a satisfying close. We appreciate all of you- special thanks to those of you who take the time to leave comments because it makes us feel ever so special!

Innsbruck

~~~~~~~~

 

They arrive in Innsbruck, Austria just as the sun is setting behind the mountains. Q manages to navigate them to their hotel, but only just since James insists on leaning over to nibble at his neck and run his hand teasingly up the inside of Q’s thigh. “Let me park the car at least you bloody teenager,” Q laughs, shoving James away playfully. “I told you I wasn’t stopping the car until we got here and it’s hardly my fault I can’t reciprocate road head while driving,” he states with a grin as he maneuvers their car into the parking garage.  

 

“Well maybe you should have warned me that we were still at least two hours away!” James gripes good-naturedly as he reaches out to pinch Q’s arse as he gets out of the car.  He steps out of his door then slinks over to pin Q against the boot and kiss him, preventing him from getting their bags. James can feel Q’s laughter vibrating against his chest and it’s a wonderful sensation.

 

“What’s with you today? Was your after-dinner drink spiked with aphrodisiacs or something?”

 

“If my wanting to get you naked and do all manner of wicked things to you makes you wonder what’s up with me, I have clearly been going about this vacation thing all wrong. I know we’ve both been careful with sex in the light of recent events, and that has been good, and needed; really it has. And I’m not saying I want to tie you up and play with toys, and I don’t want you to think sex is more important than everything else about our relationship-”

 

“I don’t think that at all, James,” Q interjects quietly.

 

“Well good. We’ve been doing so many touristy things and that’s been fun and all, but if it’s alright with you I’d like to spend a day discovering how many paths I can trace over your skin by connecting all your little freckles and moles with my tongue.” Q leans into him and bares his throat encouragingly, so James continues. “I want to spend all day watching the play of light change over your skin as the sun moves across the sky. I want to get tangled in the sheets while you laugh as I find all your most ticklish places. By the time we go to sleep tomorrow night I want us to be so spent you can fall asleep while sucking my soft cock before I pull you close and wrap my arms around you and follow you into dreams. How does that sound?”

 

Q shivers in anticipation and whispers, “Yes, please,” against James’ mouth. That does sound far more exciting than walking around and looking at yet more beautiful architecture or art or whatever is in this city because right now he honestly can’t remember.  

 

They grab their bags and enter the hotel, where James proceeds to speak smoothly in rapid German to the worker at the desk, then tip the bellboy an obscene amount of money after a few more rapid instructions. Once they are inside their suite he leans against the door, crosses his wrists above his head, and gives Q a sly, ‘what are you going to do about it?’ look.

 

Q bites his lip and steps closer so he can run his hands up James’ sides, pushing the soft cotton t-shirt up and over James’ head and pausing to lick across his lips while his eyes are covered by the material. James’ lips part slightly on a sharp intake of breath and the desire to claim his lover’s pleasure, to earn his surrender, overtakes Q’s thoughts. He looks at James and feels nothing but love and need and the only thought of Smith is the fleeting thought that he isn’t thinking about Smith. It’s cathartic. He drags the shirt off of James’ head and aligns their bodies, letting the shirt stay bunched around James’ wrists as he keeps them pinned to the wall with his left hand. His right trails down to tease over the tempting erection currently pressed against his thigh.

 

“Fuck yes,” James hisses, letting the back of his head thunk against the door as he presses his hips forward.

 

“Not yet I don’t think, though a good hard fucking is definitely in your future,” Q purrs into James’ ear before sucking lightly on the sensitive lobe. Then he smiles to himself and wraps his hand around one of James’ wrists and tugs hard hard. He ducks, and steps back quickly so that James takes a stumbling step forward. Q wraps his right arm firmly around the back of James’ thighs,maneuvers him into a fireman’s hold and carries his shocked lover quickly into the bedroom.

 

James yanks one arm free of the shirt and curls himself instinctively around Q’s shoulders in surprise. He could tell from their sparring practices that Q had finally recovered most of his strength, but this is the first time he has actually picked James up and carried him anywhere and it is unexpectedly arousing. Especially when Q drops him onto the bed and crawls over him, eyes bright with a feral intensity that James hasn’t seen since the days before Smith. “You’ve been holding out on me,” James manages before Q tangles a fist in his hair and kisses him hard. Then his head is pulled back and Q is biting the sensitive tendons at the base of his neck. James can’t help the full body spasm that results from Q dragging his stubble over the stinging mark. “God that’s perfect,” he grits out, turning his head to give Q better access.

 

Q grins against James’ neck then slides down to bite the thin skin over James’ collarbone, pausing to run his tongue over the slight indentations left by his teeth. James squirms and swears beneath him and yes, it’s perfect. The slightly salty taste of James’ skin, the mild tang of sweat, the slight musk of arousal. All of his senses feel sharp and alive as he bites his way down James’ chest then over his jeans-clad erection.

 

James groans and pushes up into the pressure, already completely lost in the sensation of being on the receiving end of Q’s intensity. He doesn’t hold back any of his reactions, sensing that Q wants this as much as he does. “I want your mouth, Artemis. I want to look down and see your obscenely gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock. Then I want you inside of me and I want it to fucking burn; I want it to feel you with every step I take tomorrow.”

 

“I thought the only steps we were going to take were from here to the loo and possibly to the door to grab room service meals,” Q teases.

 

“In that case you should probably fuck me twice,” James growls, hips lifting involuntarily as Q drags his zip down using only his teeth and digs his nails into the sensitive skin above James’ hip bones. “At least,” he adds, fingers clutching at the duvet.  

 

Q undoes the button and works James’ jeans down far enough to mouth at the wet spot over the head of James’ cock which is clearly outlined in the tight navy black pants. He grinds his own hips down into the bed when James whines low in his throat and runs his tongue along the seam of the pants, dipping his tongue just beneath the band. A moment later a hand tangles in his hair and he bites down hard on James’ hip bone as a warning. Then he sits up, pulls off his own shirt and scoots forward enough to grab James’ wrists and bind them with it. It would never hold if James even tried to get escape, but he still likes the way it looks. “Stay,” he orders sternly before slipping back down get James gloriously naked.

 

“What if I don’t?” James asks, looking down at Q challengingly.

 

“Then you’ll never experience the new thing I’ve been wanting to try,” Q replies easily, running the tips of his fingers over James’ stomach.

 

“You manipulative little shit,” James says affectionately, stretching his arms out farther and holding still.

 

“Hmm, but you love that about me,” Q points out as he smacks James lightly on the thigh then gets out of bed to look for the supplies he wants. A few minutes later he comes back with a cup of ice in one hand and a mug of hot water in the other.

 

James quirks an eyebrow at Q but stays still. “This is going to be one of those things that means we need to sleep on the other half of the bed, isn’t it?” he comments, looking at the cups curiously.

 

“Probably,” Q laughs. “But it’s usually worth it, right?” He sets the containers on the side table and drops a tube of lube into the warm water mug. Then he takes an ice cube and bites it in half and sucks one piece into his mouth before straddling James and leaning down to let the ice drop onto his left nipple while his lips hold it in place. He sucks around the ice and slides it back and forth over James’ hard nipple with his tongue as he lets just their balls rub together. James bucks and makes a choked sort of half-swear half invocation and Q feels more powerful, more safely in control than he has in months. He switches to the other nipple as he reaches out to grab another ice cube and run it down James’ chest and over his cock.

 

James struggles to keep his hands away from Q under the onslaught of conflicting sensations. The contrast of the cold of the ice and the warmth of Q’s lips, his body, is maddening and really fucking incredible. Then Q sits up suddenly and James doesn’t have time to process what is happening before a hot, hot mouth descends on his cold nipples and hot water trickles down his side and he can’t help the guttural, near shout that escapes his mouth as the heat makes his sensitized skin feel like it’s burning in the best possible way.

 

“Like it?” Q asks with a feral grin, watching the play of James’ muscles beneath his taut skin as he breathes hard.

 

“Fuck yes,” is all James manages before Q grabs another ice cube and proceeds to swallow his cock as deep as he can. James will never admit to making desperate sounds in public, but he can feel Q smile with satisfaction so he really can’t be arsed to care. Q manages to somehow swirl the cube around his erection, then up and down it and it should probably be uncomfortable but instead it’s just intensely arousing since Q keeps the ice moving so it doesn’t stay in one place long enough to get uncomfortable.  

 

When the ice is almost melted Q spits it out into his hand and uses it to circle James’ nipple while he takes another few sips of the hot water then slides his lips back down over James’ slightly chilled length. James jerks and hisses. “Fuck, oh fuck,” is all he manages because Q’s mouth feels intensely hot and Q is making gorgeous, desperate noises. His mouth is moving over James with no particular rhythm and the fact that he is too focused on his own pleasure to try for finesse is incredibly arousing. He watches as Q reaches over to stick his fingers in the mug for a while before grabbing out the small tube and squirting lube messily onto them, all without pausing his erratic sucking. Then two unusually warm fingers press inside of him and his body twists and bucks at the sudden introduction of pain into all of the pleasure; and it’s perfect. It hurts just enough to make him crave more. “Yes, like that. You’re so goddamned good at that. Please. More,” he grits out in a ragged voice, knowing how much Q loves it when he begs voluntarily.

   

Q shivers at James’ tone, reveling in the sheer joy of making his lover feel this good.  He feels powerful and needed and in control and it’s incredible. He can feel his own cock leaking and bumping against his stomach as he rocks forward in order to swallow James more completely and slip a third finger inside. He moans at the heady sensation of feeling James’ body shift from resistive to eager, as if it’s trying to pull him in deeper. “I need to be inside of you. Tell me I can, tell me you want this,” he pants. He feels like he’s vibrating with barely restrained need as he straightens and scoots forward so that he can kneel between James’ widely spread legs.

 

“Yes. Please, yes. Do it hard and don’t hold anything back,” James urges, wrapping his legs around Q’s waist and tugging him in closer.

       

Q moves to obey instantly and his hands are trembling as he hastily swipes lube over his erection, breath hitching at the sensation. He brackets James’ arse with his thighs and takes a few moments to enjoy the sight of the slick head of his cock running up and down over James’ fluttering entrance. James swears and presses forward impatiently, so Q grins and presses in an inch, letting out a shuddering breath as the head of his cock disappears into James’ welcome heat. Then he pulls back and does it again.

   

“Damn it Artemis, if you don’t-” James begins in a growl that rapidly morphs into a strangled shout as Q grabs his hips hard enough to leave marks and slams into him forcefully.  He can feel Q’s balls slap against the back of his arse and it’s dirty and rough and everything he wants right now. His fingers dig into the sides of Q’s thighs as he arches and then a sudden shock of cold makes him catch his breath as his mind scrambles to process the contrasting sensations of the ice cube Q is trailing across his chest and the burning heat of Q’s cock sliding rapidly in and out of his body. He can’t even swear, all he can do is writhe and make incoherent noises and surrender.

   

Q thought he had been re-building his stamina over the last few weeks, but he’s already so damn close to coming because this pliant, desperate, hot as hell James is a fantasy come to life. If it were up to him, he’d slow down, and savour every shift, but James asked him not to hold back so he doesn’t. He digs the nails of his left hand hard into James’ chest as he plays the ice over the light sheen of sweat coating James’ rippling abdomen. He snaps his hips forward hard, driving into James’ body and chasing his own pleasure because he knows how badly James must have been missing this sort of uninhibited fucking. James is looking at him with lust-blown pupils, his blue eyes gone dark and intense and Q only manages a few more rough thrusts before his he grits out, “I. Fucking. Love. You.” His words punctuated by shallow motions as his cock pulses and empties into James.

   

James does his best to hold Q as tightly to himself as possible as Q tenses up with the force of his release, his features made even more gorgeous than usual by the intensity of his pleasure. Even though he is trembling with the nearness of his own orgasm, for a few moments all James can think about is how he is one lucky bastard to call this beautiful creature his own. Then Q pulls out abruptly and he lets out a whine at the sudden loss, which it turns into a low rumble when Q swipes his fingers across his sensitive opening, gathering the cum leaking slowly out and spreading it over James’ cock before moving to straddle his thighs and kiss him messily while moving his hand rapidly up and down.  

 

Q is too caught up the blissful aftershocks for his motions to be very skilled, but he can tell James is so close it isn’t going to matter. He bites and nips at James’ lips then slides down to fix his teeth into the mark in the crook of his neck and bite down hard, and that’s all it takes for James to shudder and claw at his back as warmth splashes onto Q’s stomach. But it isn’t enough. He should feel sated, but all he feels is a desire for more. So rather than let James recover in peace he slips down his body, heedless of the way cum smears up his chest, kneels between James’ legs and takes the slowly softening length into his mouth. He hums as the familiar taste of James suffuses his mouth and sends desire sparking through him all over again.  

 

James buries his hands in Q’s hair and sighs in contentment, thrilled that Q so obviously enjoyed this and that he isn’t ready to stop. The continued suction is very nearly too much, but only nearly. He knows Q will be careful with him, so he just runs his fingers through Q’s hair and begins a low litany of adoration. “I love you so goddamn much. I would burn the world down if you asked me to. I love your mouth, your tongue, your cock. You make me so happy it scares me sometimes...” Long minutes of quiet praise as Q suckles and licks and kisses his spent cock and runs his fingers lightly over every inch of James’ skin they can reach.

 

Q loses himself in the erotic sensation of James’ soft cock filling his mouth and lets his lover’s words wash over him, making him feel precious and needed. He breathes in the scent of sex and sweat and cards his fingers through James’ neatly trimmed pubic hair, and wants.  He lets some of his saliva drip down the base of James' cock and smears it lower, down over the heated and slightly puffy ring of muscle. He feels his own length stir as he circles the faint ridges with one finger, eliciting a quiet moan. He knows taking James again so soon will hurt at first, and definitely make him wake up sore tomorrow, but James did ask for it. They have been so careful lately, and he’s tired of being careful.

 

James undulates his hips slowly, encouraging Q’s finger to do more than just tease him. He is aware that this is going to hurt but he wants it regardless- or perhaps because it.  Then Q’s fingers vanish and for a moment he thinks Q decided against it, but then he hears the faint snap of the lube being opened and he relaxes back against the bed in anticipation. The first finger slides in fairly easily and it aches in the best kind of way. Q is moving gently this time, just taking his time and swirling his tongue in circles and it feels amazing, even though he doesn’t think he’s quite ready to get hard again.

 

Q isn’t always ready for sex so soon after their first round, but right now his libido is on overdrive and before long he is angling his hips down and whining around his still mostly soft mouthful as the head of his cock ruts against the duvet. He slides a second finger inside of James and brushes them unerringly against his prostate.

 

“Oh fucking Christ, that’s...” James pushes up onto his elbows so he can enjoy the view better. “Are you hard already? You are, aren’t you? Think you can fuck me until I’m hard again?”

 

Q looks up at James and drags his lips up his cock, giving it a final little tug before letting it slip out with an obscene wet noise. He grins up at James and cocks his head. “Is that a challenge?” he asks in a voice heavy with the promise of pleasure. “What do I get if I can do it?”

 

“Bragging rights?” James offers. Q looks unimpressed. “Tomorrow I’ll rim you until you come from that alone,” James amends in a low purr.

 

“That’s more like it,” Q agrees, shivering at the thought. He sits up and moves to pile the pillows in front of the headboard then leans back against them and spreads his legs wide, knees slightly bent. He strokes his cock with one hand, loving the way James bites his lip and watches him. “Come sit in my lap so I can kiss you while I fuck you.”

 

James swallows hard at Q’s commanding tone and scrambles to obey, straddling Q and bracketing his arse with his thighs. Q immediately wraps his hands around the backs of James’ shoulders then drags his nails down and it’s just the right amount of distraction as he angles Q’s erection carefully and sinks down onto it. He throws his head back and makes a strangled sort of cry as his sensitive arse is filled again, but Q’s lips immediately find his and then they aren’t so much kissing as sharing breath and it’s intensely intimate. Neither of them moves his hips more than instinctive little rolls; instead they spend a few minutes in a blissful slide of tongues and hands over sweat-slicked flesh. Then Q nips up his jawline and begins licking at his ear as he whispers all kinds of dirty things and James had forgotten how much Q can turn him on with words alone. He tangles his fingers in Q’s hair and renewed arousal begins to swirl down his spine.

 

Q pitches his voice low and seductive as he drags his nails up and down James’ back. “Do you remember the first time you fingered me? I was lying naked in front of the fire and you were so careful and unsure...knowing you had never done it that thoroughly that before was so fucking hot. I wanted you so badly James, wanted your cock inside of me and your tongue in my mouth. And the first time you sucked me off against the door... I’d never been that turned on. Your mouth is so fucking perfect, James. I love it when you bite me, lick me, mark me. I love the taste of your sweat and your cum and your arse.” He swivels his hips slowly, breath hitching when James clenches around him and hums low in his throat. “I love being inside of you, and you love it too don’t you? You can’t go more than a few days without your body craving mine, aching for me to fill it.”   

 

“Yes I fucking love it,” James breathes. “You make me want things I never knew I wanted, but now I can’t live without.”

 

“And you won’t have to,” Q promises, sliding a slicked hand down between them to wrap it around James’ length and massage it gently. “I want to feel you get hard for me, James. Come on, show me how much you love my cock in your arse,” he purrs before dipping his head down to bite the tender skin stretched tight over James collarbone hard enough that he tastes the coppery tang of blood.  

 

James cries out raggedly, and his entire body spasms with the adrenaline spike caused by the beautifully sharp pain. Q drags his faint stubble over the scratches and James grins as his cock begins to twitch with interest. The realisation that Q feels comfortable enough to play rough is a serious turn-on, and he decides this is the sign he’s been waiting for that he can stop holding back his rough tendencies quite as much. “Again,” he grits out, his fingers digging hard into the skin of Q’s upper back as he leans back to give Q access to his chest.

 

Q laves his tongue over the bite mark one more time before sitting back to look at the gorgeous man in his lap. Something akin to a mental thorn twists loose inside of him and falls away at the sight of James, back arched and neck bared, muscles tense and coiled. Q knows James is still struggling to keep some of his feral intensity at bay so he doesn’t hurt or frighten him; and that’s all it takes. This is just more proof that James is willing to do anything to make him feel safe and loved, and suddenly he wants James to just let go. He wants James to bite him and mark him, for their love making to go back to the consuming, reckless thing it was before. Even the rough way he just got done fucking James wasn’t quite as uninhibited as it could have been, and now he wants to be covered in sweat and saliva and cum and.... fuck, he _wants._

 

James can feel the shift in Q’s entire being and his cock comes fully to life under the sudden intensity of Q’s gaze. And oh, he hasn’t seen that exact look on Q’s face for months and he opens his mouth to say something but whatever it was gets lost in the ‘oof’ of surprise when Q tackles him backwards onto the bed and bites his shoulder hard. Q pulls at his erection with one hand and claws around for something on the bed with the other. James doesn’t have time to figure out what it is before Q is kissing him with complete abandon and he growls when Q bites his lip sharply enough the tang of blood suffuses the kiss and it’s like a spark to gunpowder. He claws at Q’s back hard and Q moans into his mouth, shifting awkwardly over him since he isn’t holding himself up at all but James is too focused on adjusting his legs so Q can get deeper inside of him to care. Then a lube slicked hand runs down the length of his cock and Q pulls out of him, fast enough that it stings. Before he can complain, Q straddles him and suddenly James’ cock is engulfed in tight heat and Q’s arse is flush with this thighs. The noise he makes is somewhere between a howl and a desperate groan. “Jesus fuck!” He can’t help bucking up into the incredible friction even though he knows Q has to be hurting from the sudden penetration.

 

Q throws his head back and screams silently, taking deep breaths against the intensity because even though he wanted this, it really fucking burns. He places his palms against James’ chest and digs his nails in for a few seconds while his body adjusts fractionally. “Oh god,” he gasps, the muscles of his thighs trembling. James is pinned beneath him, but he still tries to pull his hips back after his instinctual little thrust. “No, don’t. I’m okay.” He rolls his hips experimentally and shivers, then leans down and rolls them neatly so James is above him. “Now show me how much you want me,” he orders in a wrecked voice, dragging his nails hard enough down James’ back to leave welts.  

 

Q obviously wants this and James wants to give it to him, so he works one arm under Q’s lower back and the other beneath to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and holds him firmly in place. Then he undulates his hips, pulling out half way then sliding back in with one fluid motion that has all the power his muscles can put behind it. When Q whines and arches his neck James gets his teeth around the corded tendon at the base of his neck and bites down hard then keeps his grip as he growls and thrusts and he feels so much for Q he’s crazy with it. He bites and licks beads of sweat and sucks little bruises, making a nearly solid line of marks across Q’s shoulders until his lover is a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him. He knows his own back has to be criss-crossed with pink marks from the way Q is clawing mindlessly at his skin and he loves it. Loves the feeling of Q’s cock trapped between their stomachs, the sweaty, hot slide of it and he wants to feel it empty between them and make an even bigger mess. And running beneath the overwhelming physical sensations is the feeling, it’s not even a coherent thought, of _love you, love you, love you._

 

Q gives himself over completely to the feeling of being owned, filled, wanted, loved. He revels in the sharp pain of bite marks, the ache of suction, the soft contrast of James’ tongue soothing over his throbbing skin. He feels present and alive and he rakes his fingers gratefully down James’ back and knows he’ll find skin beneath his nails later and it’s absolutely perfect.  He loses all sense of time so he has no idea how long it’s been when he finally feels James’ muscles trembling on the edge of orgasm. He gets both of his hands in James’ hair and drags him down for a harsh kiss, letting his teeth graze the split skin from earlier and tumbles over into his own release with the taste of blood on his tongue just as he feels James pulsing inside of him.

   

When James comes back to reality he is lying on his back and Q is propped up on an elbow next to him with a leg draped over his thigh. He is smiling lightly and tracing patterns in the pools of cum on James’ stomach. “So I have a new ‘best sex of my life’,” James grins, running his fingers lightly over the string of marks on Q’s shoulders and chest.

 

“Thank you. That was exactly what I needed.” Q leans down to kiss James slowly before sliding down to rest his head in the crook of James’ neck. “You’ve been so patient with me, so careful when I needed it. I’m glad you’re still okay with giving me intense when I need it too.”

 

“I needed careful for a while too, Artemis.” he mumbles into Q’s hair as he cuddles him close, “This was pretty amazing though.”

 

“It really was. But now I think I need bath before all this cum turns to glue,” He says with a rueful tone as he plucks at the sticky curls on James’ chest.  

 

“You have such a way with words,” James laughs. “A bath sounds good, actually.”

 

A short time later Q is snuggled up against James’ chest and enjoying the feeling of warm water swirling between them. “I think I’m officially sexed-out,” he drawls lazily, lacing his fingers with James’ and bringing their hands to rest on his stomach.

 

“Thank god for that, because at the risk of getting ‘old man’ comments I am really going to need a while before I’m ready to go again,” James admits, pressing a kiss into Q’s hair.  

 

“What happened to staying in bed all day naked tomorrow?” Q asks teasingly.

 

“Oh we can still do that. But maybe for some of the naked time we can just lie there watching an entire season of something.”  

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Q agrees, already half asleep.

 

“Okay, lets get you out before you drown.” James helps Q up and out of the tub then dries him off before seeing to himself. “Okay, bed. Though we may want to sleep without the duvet,” he suggests as they walk back into the bedroom. He drags it off and dumps it on the floor then climbs in, tugging Q in by the hand after him.

 

Q immediately curls up into his preferred position on his side and sighs in contentment when James spoons up behind him and wraps an arm around his stomach. “Love you,” he mumbles as his eyes drift shut and he’s sleeping before he has a chance to hear James’ reply.

 

They do spend the entire next day basically in bed, ordering a lot of room service and only going outside on their balcony. They do manage to watch all of _Firefly_ and _Serenity_ between lots of kissing and petting. Afterwards, James fulfills his rimming promise. By the end of the day Q is wondering whether he is mildly jealous of the character Mal since James seems to have a rather impressive crush on him. He decides against it, mostly because he feels exactly the same way.

 

When they finally emerge the next day they first wander down to a local pastry shop and enjoy some of the famous treats. Q decides that after all the exercise he just had it is perfectly acceptable to have Punschkrapfen, a cake filled with cake crumbs, nougat chocolate, apricot jam and then soaked with rum, for breakfast. James makes a face and settles for something that looks like a fancy doughnut with powdered sugar on top and they both have coffee, which is excellent.

 

    “What are you smirking at?” James asks, stretching his legs out under the small table so he can hook his feet around Q’s right ankle.  

 

    Q’s grin widens as he reaches into his pocket and sneakily pulls out his mobile to open the camera function. “Oh, nothing really just...” he whips the phone out and snaps a quick picture.  “The most dangerous agent employed by MI6 with his face covered in powdered sugar.” He laughs and holds the phone over his head when James grabs for it.

 

    “If that picture ever leaves your phone I’ll show you just how dangerous,” James growls playfully, reaching for a napkin to wipe his chin with.

 

Q reaches out and stops James’ motion, reaching out to brush at the powder. When it’s mostly gone he leans in and licks it off the corner of James’ lips quickly, then sits back and smiles at the fond look on James’ face.

 

“If you’re entirely done acting like a hormonal teenager, are you ready to do some exploring?” Despite his teasing, James knows Q won’t think he’s actually irritated.

 

“Fine,” Q replies in a dramatically put out manner. “I really want to ride the funicular railway up the mountain.”

 

“You hate flying, but you’ll ride a railroad car up the side of a steep mountain?”

 

“Do you have any idea of the level of engineering that went into the creation of it? I’ve seen the design specs; they’re incredible. Also, I don’t have to hope against unpredictable variables like storms and the exhaustion level of the pilot.”

 

“That actually makes sense,” James allows with a nod. “But someday I’m going to convince you to come flying with me. We’ll pick a cloudless day and you can ply me with plenty of caffeine and make sure I sleep well the night before.”

 

“If I also get to inspect every nut and bolt onthe plane before we take off, then I suppose that could be arranged,” Q agrees with only a slight tremor to his voice.  

 

“Done.” James is struck with the sudden urge to kiss Q for the amount of trust he’s just demonstrated, so he does. By the time he pulls away Q is flushed and grinning at the public display of affection.

 

“Come on, let’s go walk off breakfast and find the station,” Q says as he grabs James’ hand and pulls him out of the cafe.

 

The station is easy to find and Q admires its glacier-like design, created by some artist James has never heard of. There are surprisingly few tourists, so their car only has three other people in it. A middle-aged man and woman who James decides must be American due to the distinctly southern drawl of their quiet conversation behind them, and a young woman who blushes and looks away quickly when James catches her eying their clasped hands with a distinctly sappy expression on her face. The ride up does afford a rather spectacular view of Innsbruck and the surrounding mountains, and he is so caught up in the sights that he only half pays attention to Q’s excited description of the installation method of the DYWI Drill Piles used in the construction of the railway. He runs his free hand over the nape of Q’s neck and hums in the appropriate places, knowing Q will just keep talking when he’s in explanation mode. A sudden smack to his thigh brings his focus back to Q, who is looking at him with an exasperated expression.  

 

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last few minutes, have you?”

 

“Strategic use of, ah, ferrets to run lines through small spaces, right?” James replies, his eyes wide with feigned innocence.

 

“I really hate that I can’t hate you,” Q accuses, trying and failing not to laugh.

 

“That’s one of my favorite things about you,” James states, leaning in to give Q a light peck on the lips. He is so caught up in the moment he barely registers the disgusted huff from behind them.

 

They ride the train to the last station, and as soon as they get off the woman who was sitting behind them complains loudly to her husband, “Well I think it’s just disgusting, them flaunting it like that.”

 

Q reflexively grabs James’ arm when he freezes mid-step, mind scrambling for something to say to diffuse the situation because a few other people within hearing distance have also stopped, probably sensing a potential scene. “James-” he begins in a low voice, but that’s as far as he gets before the other young woman who was in the car with them cuts him off.

 

“No, it’s not!” All of them turn to look at her unexpected outburst. She has one hand gripping the backpack slung over her shoulder and the other clenched into a fist at her side, and her eyes are narrowed in irritation. “Snuggling is wonderful and lovely and maybe you should try it sometime.”

 

The woman looks over her shoulder and seems prepared to speak, but her husband puts an arm around her waist and shuttles her off to wherever they were going.

 

She looks at James and Q, flushing with embarrassment. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! I just couldn’t sit there and- I’m sorry on behalf of my country, ok? It just makes me so mad and you two are like, so sweet together and ah, ok, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now,” she rambles, nearly tripping over her words. Her distinctly east coast accent- James recognizes it from his contacts at the Pentagon- makes her words difficult to understand since she’s talking so fast.

 

James grins and takes a step closer. “Actually, I’m rather impressed.”

 

Q lets out a relieved breath and holds out his hand to her. “I’m Artemis. This is James.  And thank you. For a moment there I was worried he was going to actually use his license to kill. The paperwork would have been a nightmare,” he adds as if joking.

 

Her smile falters slightly as she takes his hand. She is clearly trying to sort out if he is kidding or not, and seems to decide he must be. “Tessa. Hi.”

 

“So what brings you to Austria, Tessa?” James asks as they turn and begin walking towards the cable car.

 

She smiles at him nervously. “Oh, the traditional backpacking trip of Europe before college begins, you know. Or, well, the two weeks in Europe since that’s all I can afford. MIT is gonna be hella expensive. But it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. My friends are still hungover in the hotel room. I was on sober watch last night, so I’m the only one with the stomach for the altitude and I didn’t want to miss this so I came alone.”

 

“Well I’m glad you did,” Q says earnestly. “People usually take a good look at James and think twice about upsetting him, but I suppose not everyone can be blessed with the gift of common sense.”

 

“I’ll say. Not all Americans are that bad, I swear,” she declares apologetically.  

 

“I believe you. So what are you going to study?” Q asks in an attempt to calm her down a bit. He looks over to James, who gives him a minute nod in return.

 

“Oh, it’s rather boring. Computer science.” she replies. James makes a polite sound of approval, and Q’s face lights up.

 

“There’s nothing boring about computer science!” he enthuses. “It’s a wonderful field, and there’s so much happening! Do you have a specialisation in mind?”

 

“Well, I’ve been doing some simple programming on a raspberry pi computer... You know, basic stuff. I programmed my music system with a new algorithm to better respond to my moods. And I constructed a pillow with sensors that respond to my movements. I taught it to recognize a few motions and I use it as a remote control!”

 

As they board the cable car James quietly tunes out of the conversation, which devolves into a level of technical detail he can’t fathom. So he watches Q geek out -for lack of a better word- with someone who seems able to keep up with him. Her casual mention of the costs of education is nagging in the back of his brain as their carriage approaches the top of the mountain.

 

“Can we offer you lunch?” James asks.

 

“Please?” Q adds, “Allow us to properly thank our knight...knightess in shining... jeans?”

 

Tessa blushes a little. “Oh, all right. Thank you.”

 

They find themselves a spot with a spectacular view of the valleys. Q seems to realise that he left James out of the conversation, so he steers the conversation back to a subject they can all engage with: their travel plans. They part ways with a few recommendations for Vienna, and invitations for a stay in Cambridge (US), and London. James and Q see Tessa off to the cable car station, and take the hike back down to funicular station.

 

“James, I was thinking...” Q says.

 

“Are you thinking of helping her with her tuition?” James asks.

 

Q looks surprised. “Yes, I was, in fact.”

 

James nods, “Me too. Shame if such a talent would have to worry over the cost of education, after all.”

 

Q’s face splits in a wide grin. “Especially when the person is so worthy of support. If only... I’m going to look into the rules for setting up a scholarship later.”

 

“You’re not hacking her bank account!” James warns.

 

“No, I’ll need to come up with something better. She’s a good one, she is. But white hat, so maybe the Pentagon will pick her up. God knows they can use someone of her caliber.”

 

“Q, do you have some sort of saviour complex I should know about?”

 

Q scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

James just grins. “You’ll think of something. We could just pay MIT directly, I think. Do we even have that kind of money?”

 

“Oh, there may be a nest egg somewhere,” Q says mysteriously.

 

“I’m guessing I don’t want to know where it came from?”

 

Q just nods slyly, adding, “We might be able to pose as anonymous donors. Pay it directly to MIT. We’d need a layer of secrecy,but it’s nothing I’ve never done before.”

 

They reach the funicular station and take the tram line back to town. They spend the rest of the afternoon just wandering the city, enjoying the views of the mountains and resting in various parks when they get tired of walking. Most of their conversation revolves around James’ theory that he could ski from the top of the mountains all the way to the town, and Q telling him no way in hell. So they amuse themselves trying to devise theoretical technology that could save James’ arse if he fell off the side of a cliff.

 

“Okay, no. Just no. No way am I designing you an Iron Man suit and unleashing you on a poor unsuspecting world!” Q states firmy, giving James a shove that ends in them tumbling into the grass when James grabs him and drags him down as well, breaking his fall carefully.

 

“Come on, Q, wouldn’t it be worth it just to terrify Mallory? I could do fly-bys of his flat as an alarm clock,” he grins evilly.

 

Q looks up from his current sprawl over James’ chest and laughs. “Not even for that!  I could possibly be persuaded to look into the emerging jet pack technology... but they’re so unwieldy the agents would have trouble carrying one into the field. Hmmm. I’ll consider looking into it,” he allows, smiling at the delighted look on James’ face. “As long as we are still talking about the possibility of you doing the training and not actually going out into the field with one yourself.”

 

“Having a jet pack to play with would definitely go a long way towards alleviating my boredom if I’m not a field agent anymore,” James agrees. “Plus, you know, I could still terrify Mallory by zooming past the windows of his flat.”

 

“You’re hopeless!” Q groans, nuzzling into James’ neck.  

 

“Probably,” James allows. “Good thing you love me then.”

 

“Bastard,” Q whispers with just a hint of seduction before biting James’ neck then getting suddenly to his feet. “So, dinner?”

 

James looks up at him with a crooked grin.  “Well now I’m thinking room service,” he rumbles as he stands.  

 

“We’ve had plenty of room service. Besides, there’s a bar here that serves Wemyss Honey Pot whiskey. There were only 299 bottles ever produced.”

 

“You know me so well. Okay, food and amazing whiskey and _then_ amazing sex.”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Q agrees.

 

Graz

~~~~~

 

    The next morning they head for Graz, and the few hours’ drive is spent mostly in companionable silence as they drive with the windows down and enjoy speeding down the roadways through the mountains. They arrive in the afternoon, and after checking into their hotel Q insists on heading out to visit the Styrian Armory, which is the largest existing original armoury in the whole world and filled with 17th century tactical technology.

 

“You mean it’s full of swords and armour and old guns then,” James comments as he watches Q bounce on his toes excitedly while waiting for James to change before they leave.

 

“Pretty much. Best museum ever!”

 

After just a short time wandering the old armoury, James has to admit that Q is right.  There are thousands of swords and shields and javelins and other old weapons, as well as a wide array of early rifles- James shivers at the thought of having to reload after every shot- and hundreds of suits of armour for men and horses. “I can’t imagine having to wear this while fighting,” James marvels, eyeing a gorgeously detailed suit of chainmail. “How did they not all die of heat stroke? And can you imagine how built you would have to be just to move in this thing?”

 

“Hmmm, the camps must have been filled with gorgeous men,” Q muses.

 

James smacks him playfully. “Hi, I’m right next to you!”

 

“Oh, don’t even pretend you aren’t thinking the same thing,” Q challenges with a wink.  

 

James considers it for a second. “Not really, no, I’ve seen plenty of naked built agents but I rarely felt any sexual attraction to them.” He steps up behind Q and runs his hands down Q’s sides as he purrs in a low voice, “I prefer your body. All gorgeous, lithe muscles and flexibility.”

 

“Oh, because I wasn’t already half hard being surrounded by this much lethal beauty,” Q whispers as he leans back into James’ chest.

 

“Only half? I can fix that,” James whispers back, thinking hard about the layout of the building and the rooms they’ve been in so far. He grins as he grabs Q’s hand and pulls him out of the room and down some stairs then back down a hallway and into a room filled with rows upon rows of guns on racks. They are the only ones in the room. He leads Q to the back and presses him into a narrow darkened space between the shelves and the wall.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Q hisses, torn between arousal and nerves.

 

“Whatever the hell I want,” James replies, kissing Q hard while undoing his trousers so he can slip his hand in and wrap it around Q’s steadily hardening cock. “You may want to be quite quick. There aren’t any cameras on us, but I have no idea how often the museum guards come through.”

 

Q’s head falls back against the shelf and he struggles to silence his pleasure, which only serves to make him even more aroused at the potential for discovery. He doesn’t think quick will be a problem, especially when James drops to his knees and wraps a fist around the base of his cock then brings his lips down to meet it. Q bites his right hand to stifle his moans and tangles the fingers of the other into James’ hair and tries to remain upright. His thighs are trembling and he can’t help arching and writhing against the shelf and James is moving so quickly over him, his cheeks hollowed while his spare hand grips Q’s hip and keeps his trousers from falling to the floor. It’s intense and hot and dirty and it only takes maybe two minutes for Q to spill into James’ mouth with a silent cry. He’s still trembling slightly when James stands, wipes the saliva off his lips with the back of his hand and tucks Q back in to redo his trousers, all while grinning like he’s just gotten away with something wicked. “Fuck,” Q pants, struggling to come up with anything more coherent to say.

 

“Maybe later,” James promises, reaching down to adjust his own erection. He feels accomplished, it’s rare he actually manages to surprise Q. Then he grabs Q’s hand and pulls him back out of the darkness, giving a salute and a wink to the female guard who is just walking in the door as they leave the room.

 

“You’re a menace,” Q declares fondly, giving James a quick kiss before they continue to wander the rest of the museum.

 

By the time they leave the museum James declares that before they head back to the hotel they need to find something to eat, or he won’t have enough energy for all the wicked things he wants to do to Q. They pick a street, figuring they can just pick somewhere that looks good when James stops in his tracks. “Are you kidding me? They have a Hooters in the middle of Graz? Oh, well we have to go now if only for the sheer ridiculousness of it.”

 

“Tell me it isn’t what it sounds like,” Q groans as James drags him across the street towards the restaurant.

 

“Oh, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Gotta love American marketing strategies.”

 

Once they are seated by a woman in tight orange shorts  and an even tighter white cutoff t-shirt, Q looks around in distaste. “It’s so...orange. And so...”

 

“If you say degrading you’re going to get slapped by our waitress,” James warns.

 

“I was going to say tacky, actually,” Q replies. “I know better than that. It’s a valid career choice. I’m familiar with taking advantage of the desires of a target population and using them to my advantage. Comes with the job description at MI6, really.”

 

James places their orders in German, smiling at the waitress with no trace of desire, which makes Q happy. “Really, I just like the place for its chicken wings.”  

 

The rude comment from a few tables away, spoken in a language Q doesn’t understand and followed by a smack to their waitress’ arse makes Q decidedly less happy. He tenses up and resists the urge to go smack the man back, especially when the waitress gives the man a death glare then just stalks away. “Men can be such arseholes,” Q mutters darkly.

 

“We can at that,” James admits, watching Q’s reaction closely. The exchange happened behind his back, but he knows Q’s distinct protective look and wonders if this evening is going to end in a bar fight. It’s not an entirely unwelcome prospect.  

 

Q continues to watch the table of rude men interact with their increasingly irritated waitress throughout their meal, and when he sees two of the men exchange significant glances and head for the hallway leading to the loos in distant pursuit of the young woman, he excuses himself from the table and follows.

 

James gives Q a minute before he puts money on the table and heads down the hallway himself. He feels a rush of adrenaline when he sees the cracked back exit door, and grins. He almost feels bad for the men. They have no idea who will be messing with them.

 

Fifteen odd hours later James wakes up tangled up in Q and their hotel sheets to the sound of his mobile ringing. He groans and pulls a pillow over his pounding head. Fuck. He hasn’t felt this hung over in a long time. His mouth tastes awful, his tongue is dry and he wants to drink a gallon of water and sleep for another five hours at least.

 

“Oh, sodding hell,” Q groans from next to him. “Are you gonna answer that?”

 

“No. Ouch, even talking is too loud. Who’s going to move enough to find us some pain killers?”

 

Q grits his teeth as the jarring sound of the mobile assaults his ears again. “Damn it.  Ok, I’ll get the phone, you get the codeine. Do we even have codeine?” Q fumbles for the mobile and steels himself as he sees who it is. “Morning M,” he rasps, rubbing his grainy eyes.

 

“Q. I don’t suppose you’d like to inform my why in seven hells there is a sodding fruit basket on my desk, courtesy of the German mob? Along with a set of coordinates promising to be the location of a Russian target on our most wanted list?”

 

“Oh, that. Funny story. Did you know the German mob owns a Hooters franchise in Graz?”

 

“Do I want to hear this story?” Mallory grits out in a voice obviously struggling for control. “No, I didn’t know that.”

 

“Well, neither did I, but there you are. While we were there -not my idea, by the way- two idiots tried to assault our waitress on her break. I interfered.”

 

“Oh god,” Mallory sighs, “I’m not sure if the presence of 007 at the scene made things better or worse.”

 

“Better, I think. Anyway, as it turned out she was the daughter of one of the mob bosses. And the guys were Russian mob. Her father was feeling quite grateful. Which involved more vodka than I can possibly explain.”

 

“God, the two of you. Do I have bodies to deal with? And did you two idiots manage to keep from spilling any state secrets in your inebriated state?”

 

Q scoffs. “Of course we didn’t compromise the safety of England. We just told them the head of MI6 is James’ cousin, and it would be funny if he got a thank you for some English blokes helping out their German neighbors. It can only help that they’re feeling like they owe us right now. And the men were alive when I left them, but ah, you know...anyways, I’m pretty sure the Germans dealt with them...” Q trails off. “Christ, my head. Never drink with the bloody German mob.”

 

“Noted,” Mallory sighs. “Try not to give me any more panic attacks this early in the day.  And get the hell out of that sodding city!”

 

“As soon as we can move, sir,” Q assures him before ringing off.

 

James crawls back into bed and presses a few pills into Q’s palm then hands him a glass of cold water. “As soon as we can move is going to be a while,” he grumbles, collapsing back onto the sheets and rolling over onto his stomach so he can hide his face between his crossed arms to block the offending light.

 

Q swallows the pills and finishes the water, then drapes himself over James’ back and rests his head between James’ shoulder blades. “Too right,” he agrees, then allows himself to drift back to sleep.

 

By the time they wake up, eat, and feel vaguely human again it’s nearing sunset. Since they slept most of the day they aren’t tired, so to placate M they decide they will just drive to Vienna even though it will mean they arrive sometime in the middle of the night. Q books them a hotel via his mobile while James makes sure all of their things are packed, and then they are off.

 

Vienna

~~~~~

 

    By the time they are awake and moving, feeling much more functional after more sleep and a lazy lunchtime breakfast of coffee and muffins in bed, it is already early afternoon.  “So,” Q drawls, propping himself up on an elbow and trailing his fingers down James chest.  “Are we planning on leaving the room today?” He can’t make up his mind about it since James looks distractingly good, all golden skin against white sheets.

 

    “I suppose we should at some point. My muscles are starting to feel cramped up from all the lying around.” He stretches, arching his back so the sheets tangled around his waist pull down even lower and grins at the aroused look in Q’s eyes as he follows the movement. “No rush though,” he purrs, kicking the sheet aside and patting his thighs as he gives Q an inviting look.

 

    Q grins back and scrambles off the side of the bed to dig some lube out of his bag before returning to straddle James’ thighs. He loves that James doesn’t even have to tell him what he wants even though it’s been a long time since they’ve done this. There are so many benefits to long term relationships that he never fully understood before James, and he’s beyond happy that he’s had the chance to discover them for himself. He squirts some lube into James’ proffered palm then onto his own right hand, jerking and getting more than he had planned when James’ slicked hand wraps around his own hardening length. “That’s cheating,” he accuses as he reaches down to run one finger teasingly up James’ cock then flick it lightly over the head before he begins in earnest.

 

    “Since when have I ever played fair?” James points out, tensing his thighs and lifting them a bit to bounce Q lightly on his lap.

 

“You are such a shit,” Q laughs, reaching his free hand down to smack James on the side of his arse. “Okay then, I’m thinking of that waterfall in Indonesia you once mentioned you wanted to bring me to so you could get me naked and do all kinds of wicked things to me.”  He twists his wrist rapidly, rolling his palm around the head of James’ cock and is gratified when James growls and the hand around his own erection stutters in its motion. “You would pin me against a rock and strip me slowly, and I would want it but I would still be nervous, thinking that anyone could come by and see us. But then you would drag your nails down my sides as you knelt and sucked my leaking cock in, and I would spread my legs and forget about everything but you.”

 

“You fight dirty,” James breathes as images of Q naked and wet in the shifting light from the trees flit across his mind. His hand moves in practiced motions over Q’s length as he continues the fantasy. “I would pull you beneath the falling water, towards the side where it was gentlest, and kiss you. I would run my hands all over your wet, sun-warmed skin and bite your neck, your shoulders. I would slip around behind you and hold you close just in front of the waterfall, push your hips forward so I could watch your hard cock bobbing under the water and feel you writhe against me at the maddening sensation that isn’t quite enough...”

 

“Oh fuck,” Q pants, his hips moving forward into James’ fist as he imagines what that would feel like. He feels like he is dangerously close to losing this game already, so he tightens his grip and speeds up his motions, squirming and rocking his arse against James teasingly. “I would whine and beg you to fuck me, even though all of that water would make it hurt more than usual. I would lean forward against the rock wall next to the waterfall, wet and wanting until you finally pushed your fingers inside using nothing but your own spit. And when you fucked me it would be tight and burn and I would love it, push my arse back and ask for more, harder, and you would fist a hand in my hair and pull and wrap your other arm around my waist and shove that gorgeous cock into me and I would moan and whimper and love you, love you-” Q is so lost in his own story that he is momentarily surprised when James snaps him out of it by swearing and yanking him down for a hard kiss as warmth spurts over his stomach.  

 

“God, the fucking mouth on you,” James growls before dragging Q by the hips up his body and swallowing him down, ignoring the unpleasant taste of lube.

 

Q grabs mindlessly at the head board, angling his hips down and pushing his cock deeper for just a second before he is shaking and crying out something incoherent as James swallows around his pulses. His thighs are trembling with the effort of not choking James completely, so he tips himself off sideways and flops onto the bed in a blissful daze. “Fuck me that was fast, I don’t think my body was quite ready for zero to fucked out in under five minutes.”

 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” James mumbles, reaching out to pull a pillowcase off so he can wipe them carelessly down with it before leaning over to place a kiss on Q’s thigh, which is the closest body part he can reach in Q’s awkward sprawl. “I haven’t mentioned that place since our first week on Skye. Good memory. Now I really am going to have to get you over your flying issue so I can bring you some day.”

 

“Hmm, that might be worth flying for,” Q considers while waiting for his brain to come back online.

 

“So, shower first I’d say. Then did you have any special plans for today?”

 

“Ah...Oh! We, James, are going on a date to an amusement park!” Q says with a grin, suddenly remembering his research on Vienna.

 

“Really? I haven’t been to one in years. Do I get to win you a giant stuffed animal?” James asks in a teasing voice.

 

“I think my carrying a giant gorilla around stretches the bounds of my love for you,” Q replies with a laugh. “So as long as you don’t mind me giving it away to the first kid I see, go for it.”

 

By the time they have showered and dressed and walked the short distance to the Prater fairgrounds it is late afternoon and the park is fairly crowded. James looks around, taking in the sounds of laughter and excited screams, the varied scents of fair food and the vibrant colors on rides and patrons alike. He can barely remember the one time he went to a fair when he was a teenager after sneaking out of Eton with some mates. But this, being here with Q who is vibrating happiness and dragging him off to purchase ride cards... he had thought he was past feeling this content, this alive. He swallows around an unexpected lump in his throat, but has his features schooled back into a carefree expression by the time Q turns to look at him.

 

“So, looks like we just buy one of these and add money to it if we want to. How many rides do you want to go on? At least I don’t have to worry about you being scared of roller coasters, Mr. ‘I run along the tops of trains for fun,’” Q lilts as he presses a quick kiss to the corner of James’ mouth.

 

“No, I think we’re good there. At least I think so. I honestly haven’t been on one in over 20 years,” James admits with a shrug.

 

Q looks appalled. “Okay, so all of them,” he decides, putting his card into the machine and pressing the necessary buttons. The closest roller coaster is one with a few spiraling loops, and Q drags James over to it by the hand to wait in line.

 

“So let me get this straight. You won’t fly, but you will entrust your life to this unstable looking contraption.” James eyes the roller coaster doubtfully, eyebrows raising as it visibly trembles when a car rushes by along the track.

 

    “Engineering, James. Besides, sometimes you just have to live a little.”

 

    “You’re telling me I need to live a little?” James gives Q an incredulous look.

 

    “You know what I mean. Arse.” Q punches James in the shoulder playfully. “When was the last time you got to have an adrenaline rush that didn’t mean someone was trying to kill you?  If you’re going to go into training, I’m going to need to find new ways to feed your thrill-seeking addiction,” Q says carefully. They haven’t discussed James’ potential career switch in a few days.

 

    James feels a thrill of satisfaction that Q has been thinking about it, and the fact that he is so concerned about James still enjoying his life makes him love the man even more. “I rather think being on a shooting range with new recruits will fill my quota for danger. Well, that and testing your newest destructive devices...” he gives Q a sly grin.  

 

    “You’re a manipulative bastard,” Q accuses lightly. “Fine. I’ll talk to M about getting you some time in R&D. Your practical input could be useful actually,” he considers. “No promises on the jet pack though,” he warns.

 

“We’ll see about that,” James purrs into Q’s ear, nipping it lightly before stepping up to a car and sliding into the seat.

 

Q scrambles after James a moment later. “Please, you’re going to have to try much harder than that. “So. The unwritten rules of roller coaster riding state that on the way down any inclines you need to lift your hands up in the air and scream.”

 

James gives Q a doubtful look. “I’ve faced down some of the most terrifying people in the world and you expect me to scream because of a little hill?”

 

“I expect you to scream because it’s _fun_ ,” Q amends. “Come on, do it because you love me,” he begs, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

 

“If you tell anyone about this I will end you,” James threatens, a smile pulling at the corners of his attempt at a stern face.

 

Q just winks then turns to look forward as the car begins to move.

 

By the time the ride comes to an end James is wiping tears from the corners of his eyes from a combination of wind and laughter, because damn that was fun and Q’s ridiculous dramatic screaming really was amusing.

 

“You loved it, didn’t you?” Q asks, his hair wild and his eyes bright.

 

“I really kind of did,” James admits.

 

“Good. Because I’m making sure we go on all of them.” By the time Q does manage to navigate them to all the roller coasters, the tilt-a-whirl, and a few other smaller spinning rides his sides hurt from laughing and he drags James over to a bench to rest. “Having fun?” he asks, just for the sake of hearing James say yes.

 

“You know I am, even if I am a decade older than most of the people here who are actually going on the rides.” He glances around at the many family groups, parents waving at their children on the rides.

 

“You’re never too old for rides. Besides, since when have you been concerned about appearances?” Q teases. “Or age, for that matter.”

 

“I’ll show you concerned for appearances,” James growls playfully, pulling Q in for a fierce kiss. “So, where to? I’m actually feeling kind of hungry. Feel like sampling the three star cuisine of the food carts?”

 

“Just you wait. Nothing tastes as good as a deep fried, battered sausage on a stick while you’re at a fair. Except possibly funnel cakes at the same fair,” he muses, looking around for the food area.

 

James looks doubtful. “I’ll tell you how it compares to the Tuscan risotto.”

 

“You do that,” Q replies confidently as he pulls James to his feet and heads in the direction where the smell of grease is strongest.  

 

A short while later, James is sitting in a patch of grass and watching as Q tilts his head to the side and takes a bite of a very phallic breaded sausage on a stick. “You have got to be kidding me,” he snorts. “How am I supposed to avoid thinking about how much this looks like a cock?”

 

    “Think what you want,” Q says around his mouthful. “It’s delicious.”

 

    James clamps down on the urge to laugh as he takes his own cautious bite. “Oh my god, that is better than it has any right to be,” he admits after he swallows.

 

    “Right? It’s all about the right food for the right situation.”

 

    They are still hungry after they finish, so they wander the park sharing a giant serving of chips in a cardboard bowl. When they are nearly finished they come to the bumper cars. James stops and gives Q a challenging look. “This looks like it would be right up my alley.”

 

    “Promise not to injure any small children,” Q advises as they make their way into the line. “Or swear loudly enough for us to get kicked out.”

 

That last part is the most difficult when it turns out that James is really spectacularly terrible at bumper cars. He growls as Q slams into him from the side yet again and silently curses the car’s awkward handling. No matter what he does he just ends up spinning in circles. It doesn’t help that Q is laughing maniacally and bashing James’ abused care until he is stuck in a corner. When the cars stop moving it is actually a profound relief. “Not a word!” he gripes at Q’s taunting grin.

 

“Too late. I already texted Eve,” Q admits, cackling as James makes a swipe at his arse. He dances away, an evil smile firmly in place. “I’ll tell you what. If you can beat me at the horse race water gun game I promise not to tell anyone else.”

 

“You’re on,” James agrees, wounded pride fading immediately when he sees how much Q is enjoying this.

 

Q leads them to the section of the park that is filled with doubtlessly rigged games of skill. After a few minutes of wandering he comes upon a game that involves squirting water from a gun through a small hole, which apparently makes a horse figurine move down a track towards the finish line. He takes a seat and hands the operator a few bills then pats the seat next to him for James to sit down. “Okay old man, let’s see what you’ve got,” he taunts.

 

James fixes Q with a purely 007 ‘don’t fuck with me’ look, which of course only makes Q flush with obvious desire. “Oh, I’ll show you all right,” he promises, his tone purposefully lewd. As it turns out, he does not in fact show Q. Not for a frustrating ten races until he gets the hang of the shitty water gun after so many years dealing with fine tuned instruments of death. By that point Q is shaking with mirth and has a small pile of ridiculous little prizes on his lap.

 

“Oh yes, you showed me all right,” Q smirks.

 

“Quiet you. This time I get to pick the game,” James gripes good naturedly. “What are you going to do with all of that?” he asks, looking at the junk Q is trying to pick up.

 

“Well this I’m giving to you you,” Q says as he selects a garishly purple rabbits foot keychain and hands it to James, who looks at in amusement. “And the rest I’m doing this with.”  He takes the toys and turns to the three kids on the chairs next to them, hands them each three and walks away as they smile after him.

 

James leads them to a game of marksmanship that involves shooting slender moving targets with a pellet gun. “Now this is more my style,” he comments as he takes a seat on the bench and hands the operator the fee.

 

“I don’t know. Somehow I don’t think that gun has nearly the precision you’re used to dealing with. I’m willing to bet half the kids here could beat you.”

 

“Watch your mouth,” James growls teasingly. “Just for that, I’m winning you that giant stuffed...ah...alien anteater thing and making you take it home. It can be your new Q Branch mascot.”

 

Q eyes the bizarre looking animal in confusion. “Well it’s got a snout like one I guess. Do anteaters have long rabbit ears like that though? And why is there a knot in its tail?”

 

“Mysteries of the universe,” James mumbles as he lines up his first shot. He fires and the pellet goes wide and hits the wall. “Damn.” He adjusts for the angle the pellet seems to travel in but his second shot misses as well.

 

“Looking good love,” Q encourages with a sarcastic smirk.

 

“I hate you,” James grumbles in reply as he lines up his third shot. This time one of the targets goes down and he can’t help letting out a whoop of satisfaction. His fourth and fifth shots also hit their marks and he jumps off his stool to pull Q into a celebratory hug. “Ha! Told you I could do it!”

 

Q grins as he watches James accept the big stuffed animal because it’s incredible to see him acting so happy and carefree again. James hands him the thing like it’s some sort of impressive spoil of war. “I seriously have to keep this mutant ant eater?” Secretly he can’t help thinking it is rather adorable, but he’s not giving James that kind of ammunition.

 

“Of course! Tell me what’s more romantic than your boyfriend winning you a giant awkward stuffed animal at a fair?” James leans in to kiss Q, though it’s rather difficult with the fluffy creature between them.

 

“I don’t know...roses? A flame thrower?”

 

“Spoilsport,” James accuses. “Come on, Mallory looks like he wants to go on the really high swing ride.” He pats the ridiculous animal on the head.

 

“Mallory?”

 

“He looks like a Mallory, doesn’t he?” James tries to keep a straight face but is entirely unsuccessful.

 

“It’s the wonky eyes, isn’t it?” Q muses, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as well.

 

James laughs. “Hold him up, we have to send a picture to Eve.” Q does as James takes a picture with his mobile and sends it to Eve with the caption, ‘Meet Mallory, the new mascot of Q Branch.’   

 

“He’s going to assign you on a mission to Antarctica when he finds out,” Q warns with a grin.

 

“Let him try. Last I checked, trainers didn’t go out into the field,” James says as he takes Q’s hand and leads him off towards the swings.  

 

“Good point,” Q agrees as a rush of happiness flows through him. It starts to dawn on him that James is serious about moving out of the 00 program.

 

They ride the swings and the ferris wheel and even the carousel, with James threatening Q with his life yet again if he either tells anyone or takes pictures. Then they share candy floss and funnel cakes and sit in the grass watching the lights of the park come on as darkness falls.

 

James lays back and uses Mallory as a pillow then pulls Q down against him. “This is much better than a museum.”

 

“Sick of those?”

 

“A bit,” James admits cautiously, knowing that Q loves them.

 

“Okay, no museums while we’re here. I promise.”

 

“Hmmm, I’ll have to think of other ways to keep you entertained then,” James purrs into Q’s ear while dragging their laced hands down Q’s chest slowly.

 

“You know what would entertain me?” Q asks in a seductive voice.

 

“What?”

 

“A segway tour.”

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

“Come on James, it’ll be fun!  Have you ever ridden one?”

 

“When exactly would I have done that? It’s not as if I was on a mission and thought, ‘I need to catch that bad guy. Oh look, I could take this motorcycle or this segway, let me think...”

 

Q laughs and squirms around onto his stomach so he is facing James. “Please? I’ve been wanting to play around with one for a while. Just think of all the cool modifications I could make!”

 

“You equip one with guns and some sort of jet engine and we’ll talk.”

 

Q licks a stripe up James’ neck and nibbles on his earlobe. “I’ll wear the leather kilt I’ve been hiding and let you fuck me in it,” he whispers.

 

“You’re evil,” James complains as his mind paints him a startlingly clear image that his body expresses a distinct interest in.

 

“I know,” Q concedes as he drags his tongue along the shell of James’ ear. “Good thing you love me.”

 

James sighs and admits defeat. Looks like Q will have one more thing to add to his ever growing list of blackmail possibilities. “Good thing. But this means you definitely owe me that plane ride once we get back to London.”

 

Q smiles into James’ hair. “We’ll see. I guess that does give me the entire trip through Poland and the drive back to come up with a few more things you can do to convince me,” he teases.

 

“I do love a challenge,” James purrs as he sneaks his hands down Q’s sides then digs his fingers in, tickling the sensitive areas above Q’s hips so he dissolves into helpless laughter.  When James finally lets up Q is flushed and his eyes are reflecting the colored lights from the rides and he looks so happy all James can do is pull him in and kiss the taste of candy floss out of his mouth.

 

“Home?” Q asks against James’ lips, knowing James will know what he means.

 

“Home,” James agrees. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about that leather kilt.”  
 


	9. Poland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, our lovely friends and readers. Thank you for following us for this long! A story, after all, is meant to be shared so these words wouldn't matter without you. It has been an incredible experience writing this and getting to know you through comments! We truly appreciate every comment and every read, even if you don't feel like saying hi. But if you've been waiting, this is your last chance : ) There are no plans to continue this 'verse since we feel that 200,000 words is probably enough! Please come say hi to us on our tumblrs of the same name! 
> 
> Special thanks to MissMHO for Polish-picking this chapter.

   

Poland

 

Krakow

~~~~~~

 

 

“Next time we go to the continent, we should keep something in mind,” James comments, looking out the window at more of the same giant trees he’s been seeing for over an hour. “These forests are endless.”

 

    “I think a few months away from missions has messed with your ability to be patient,” Q teases with a smile.  “We can still change our plan.”

 

    “Oh no, the Ancient Old Forest of Poland. We agreed.”

 

    “We’ll need some gear if we are planning to go hiking and camping.”

 

    “Yes quartermaster,” James replies in mock obedience.

 

    “Occupational bend,” Q says apologetically, as if he isn’t mentally cataloging what they’ll be needing for their expedition.

 

    “It’ll be different when we get home,” James muses after a while.

 

    “Not on all fronts, I hope,” Q replies suggestively.

 

    “Oh no, no worries on that count.” James slides a hand up Q’s thigh.

 

    “You’re a menace.”

 

    “Which is why you love me.”

 

    Q harrumphs, but relaxes into James’ touch.

 

    They cross the border quietly then Q asks, “What should we do about holding hands and such?”

 

    “What do you mean?”

 

    “Well, kind individuals notwithstanding, Poland isn’t known as a bastion of gay tolerance.”

 

    “They'd have to spectacularly stupid to mess with us,” James says offhandedly. Q just hums.     “Artemis, I promise no one will hurt you as long as I can help it.” The promise hangs heavily between them. “Possibly we should’ve remembered to bring our lethal rings though,” James adds, to lighten the mood a little.

 

    “Thank you, James,” Q replies in an affectionate tone before shaking off the potentially heavy mood.  “After we change places, I’ll look up a hotel. Somewhere in the old town area since that’s supposed to be pretty interesting. I think we should make it to Krakow today.”

 

    They make it into Krakow and find their hotel just as the sun is setting. James looks up at the hotel, crammed between a bar and some sort of repair shop, in mild amusement. The group of older men standing outside the bar are staring at their car in surprise and some amount of suspicion. “Well, we found it.”

 

    Q sighs in exasperation. “See what happens when you say I take too long to choose and insist on staying at the first hotel whose name you tapped on the google search page?”  

 

    “Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, this place can’t be nearly as bad as half the places I’ve stayed in before.” James pulls the car into a nearby tiny parking space that is miraculously available.  

 

    “My sense of adventure is already set to be tested with this camping suggestion of yours, but fine. I would suggest we don’t leave anything of value in the car though.”

 

    James waves cheerfully at the group in front of the bar and calls out a hello in Russian as they make their way inside. That makes the men relax visibly and one even says hello back, which makes Q feel better. It’s not that he’s afraid of the area or people, but he hates feeling like he doesn’t fit in. After they unpack in the tiny room appointed with only a queen sized bed and a rickety looking dresser they set out on foot in search of a local bar for some food and drinks. James picks an arbitrary direction to begin walking in, stating that he’d rather go exploring a bit rather than just head to the bar next to their hotel.  

 

“How do you even know it’s a public bar?” Q asks a good half an hour later as he eyes the stairway down into a darkened area featuring a beat-up door emblazoned with a few hand painted words in Polish that he can’t read.

 

“Just listen, of course it’s a bar!” James grabs Q’s hand and practically drags him down the stairs towards the sound of unfamiliar music. Besides, it smells like stale alcohol and the scent of recently smoked cigarettes lingers in the air outside.And we haven’t been to a good hole in the wall bar yet. Can’t beat ‘em for an authentic experience of a city.”

 

Q follows James down, shaking his head but actually rather curious to see what is on the other side of the door. He lets go of James’ hand as they enter what turns out to be a surprisingly large room when he was expecting a few hundred crowded feet of space. “Huh, it’s a tardis,” he comments as all the patrons turn and look at them like a scene from a movie.  Q smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way as he follows James to the bar. “I don’t think we’re welcome,” he hisses in a low voice.  

 

“Don’t worry, if there’s one thing I’m an expert at it’s making people like me,” James replies quietly.  

 

Q leans against the bar and begins to wonder if he shouldn have let James bring his gun after all as James grins and turns to face the room that has gone mostly quiet except for the music. Then James starts speaking in a half-shout in Russian with a friendly, open tone.  He must make some sort of joke because most of the men laugh and the tension goes down perceptibly. Then James waves towards the room and raises his hand in a mock toast and everyone starts yelling in what Q assumes is happiness. “What did you tell them?”

 

“That I was visiting and didn’t want to waste my time in a tourist bar when I could go find the best men in Krakow in a local place that doesn’t come up on a google search. Also, that I was buying them all a shot of the best Polish vodka here,” he adds as the men begin to swarm the bar and the bartender good-naturedly waves them back as he begins to pour the drinks.  

 

“Why Russian though?”

 

“Poland has a rather complex history, the result of which is that a lot of people speak Russian as well as Polish, which I don’t know. I was banking on at least half of them understanding me.”  James grabs a shot glass and hands one to Q. When everyone has one he shouts out a toast to new friends and good alcohol before tossing the shot back.

 

Q grimaces as the liquid burns its way down his throat. James gestures for a second round. “More vodka? Are you crazy?!” Q objects.

 

“This is _Polish_ vodka, love, totally different than what we were drinking with those Germans,” James declares as he accepts pats on the back and shouts of thanks.  

 

Q isn’t convinced and gives James an ‘I’m not buying your shit’ look as the men begin to disperse, leaving them alone.  

 

“Oh come on Artemis, just loosen up and enjoy the moment,” James challenges as he leans in impulsively to kiss the pout off of Q’s lips. An angry shout from the other end of the room has him pulling away quickly and stepping in front of Q instinctively.

 

A thrill of adrenaline rushes through Q as a big man across the room starts yelling something he can’t understand, but his tone and expression are clear enough. He is decidedly not a fan of men who kiss men. At least two of his friends obviously agree, from their ominous steps forward. Q grits his teeth and steels himself for a fight since he knows there is no way in hell James is backing down. He just hopes he doesn’t end up with bodies to account for, especially when he steps to the side and looks over at James- no, 007- who is grinning like the devil presented with the opportunity for mischief. When James doesn’t make a move to leave the man pulls a knife out and brandishes it threateningly.

 

“Aw, isn’t that cute?” James drawls in Russian and the man has exactly half a second to look surprised before James launches himself across the room, wrenches the knife out of the man’s hand and knocks him to the ground.

 

Q shakes his head and wonders if this was what James had meant when he suggested an adventure. It probably was. Well, in for a penny and all of that, he decides as he takes a few steps towards the two men rushing towards him and drops at the last second, neatly spinning and swiping both of their legs out from under them. “Just try not to kill anyone 007!” he shouts at James over the general din of the onlookers who have formed a vague circle around the five of them.

 

“Oh come on Q, have some fun!  Show off for me! Remember what the adrenaline will do for you later.” James shouts back gleefully as he ducks beneath the fist of his attacker who has scrambled to his feet and lands a punch to the man’s kidney.  

 

Q grins ferally and dances away from the bar, making a come hither motion as the two men get shakily to their feet and consider their attack more carefully this time. “I know two against one is hardly fair to you guys, but do try to make some sort of effort,” Q teases, not caring if they don’t understand him because his tone is careless enough to piss them off. One of the men rushes him again, going for his waist this time in an apparent effort to tackle him to the floor. Q rolls his eyes and uses the man’s momentum to flip him neatly over and onto his back where he lands hard, clearly dazed.   

 

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” James calls out from the awkward wrestler’s hold he has on his opponent.

 

“Probably, but I still appreciate it! Ok, next!” Q calls, having more fun than he cares to admit. The second man considers his friend on the floor before pulling his own long knife from his boot. “Hey, whatever makes you feel more confident, but I think you’re really compensating for something there,” Q taunts. He hears James laughing from behind him as the man charges. Q runs headlong at the man, taking a moment to appreciate the shock in his eyes before timing a leap to plant a foot solidly in the man’s solar plexus and launch himself neatly into a back flip. It’s a reckless move, but he’s feeling invincible. As he expected, the man stumbles back and shock makes his knife hand make an awkward and ineffective swipe towards where Q’s torso used to be. Q lands neatly then grabs the wrist holding the knife and twists it hard. The man drops the knife with a startled yelp. Q picks it up, turns and flings it hard past the heads of a few patrons. It lands quivering very near the bullseye of a dart board and when Q turns his opponent is backing off with his hands raised.

 

James has his attacker in a choke hold and watches in fascination as Q effortlessly disarms his own opponent. Fuck, this really is an aphrodisiac he decides and lets out a laugh born purely of being alive, here in the chaos of this bar. Suddenly the man beneath him begins to laugh as well. James looks down at the man and feels the violence fade from his body, replaced by the adrenaline-fueled joy of a good fight that few people truly understand.  

 

Q looks over at the sound of laughter and watches in amusement as James and his would-be attacker sit on the ground and laugh then clap each other on the back. The man says something Q doesn’t understand then gets up, offering James his hand. Then the man raises James’ arm and shouts something to the room at large. Everyone starts laughing and teasing the atmosphere goes back to one of easy camaraderie.

 

The two men who were fighting Q come up to him smiling and offer their hands, then pull Q over to the bar and buy him a shot, which Q accepts in mild confusion. “What just happened?” he asks when James comes back over to sit next to him at the bar.

 

“Well, that guy just basically told me he guesses it’s ok if I take it up the arse as long as I can still kick his.”

 

“So now we’re okay here?”

 

“Okay? We’re celebrities!” James tosses back a shot then kisses Q again and this time no one says anything.

 

“Men are fucking strange,” Q declares. “That was kind of fun though. I suppose,” he admits.

 

“It was the most fun you’ve had with your clothes on this entire trip, admit it,” James prods.

 

“Never. You don’t need the encouragement,” Q counters with a smirk.

 

“You looked really fucking hot kicking those guys’ arses,” James whispers into Q’s ear.  “When we get back to the hotel I’ll show you how much it made me want you.”

 

As it turns out, the only thing they can do by the time they get back to their hotel is stumble drunkenly into their room, get tangled up in the clothes they’re trying to shed, then fall into bed and pass out. When Q wakes up to the light coming through the pointless white curtains he groans, pulling a pillow over his head. “I hate you. It’s official. Polish vodka is exactly the same as German vodka when it comes to hangovers!”   

 

“I dunno, I feel a bit better than the last time,” James mumbles.

 

“Excellent. That means you’re getting the coffee.”

 

“You’re such a little shit,”James groans into Q’s side since it’s the closest accessible piece of flesh.  

 

“That’s me. Now go find us coffee and some sort of disgustingly sweet bread product.  Besides, you’re the one who insisted on coming to a hotel with no room service where no one speaks English.”

 

James sits up slowly and everything aches. He blinks down at his bruise-covered skin and suddenly all of the memories from the previous night come back to him. “Remind me to never again teach fighting techniques while drunk.” He reaches over and peels the sheet off of Q and is relieved to see he is only sporting a few minor bruises.  

 

Q carefully prods at a bruise on his thigh and hisses. “Oh. Right. That guy I threw wanted tips didn’t he?”

 

“Him and half the bar,” James recalls ruefully. “But hey, we got a cabin out of it and a few new friends so that’s a successful night I’d say.”

 

“A cabin? Where was I for that conversation?”

 

“Trying to teach Roman to do a backflip I think… he’s lucky he didn’t break his damn neck.”  

 

“Sounds about right,” Q sighs, dragging a pillow back over his face.  “So what’s this about a cabin?”

 

“It seems that Marek, that’s the guy who started the fight, has a family cabin up in the Tatra mountains that no one is using right now. He says we can stay there for a few days. I don’t remember where it is, but his number is in my mobile so I’ll call and get details later. After coffee. And very late morning sex.”

 

“I will accept a very late morning blow job, but if you think I’m letting you bounce me around right now you’re delusional,” Q declares in a mildly irritated voice.  

 

James pats Q on the stomach as he gets out of bed in search of paracetamol and water for both of them. After putting paracetamol and a glass of water on the floor beside the bed he goes looking for his clothes. Finally, he is ready to go in search of the coffee that will render Q in a far better mood. Though there will likely be no more vodka for a long time.   

 

After coffee, drugs and a few pączki pastries filled with chocolate pudding, Q feels ready to consider moving all the way over to the tiny bathroom for a shower. Alone apparently, since the stall is barely big enough for one and he keeps bumping his elbows into the sides while trying to turn around. When he gets back into the room James is lying on the bed looking hopeful. “No,” Q states as he goes digging for some fresh clothes in his suitcase.

 

“Not even the blow job?” James asks in a tone that usually makes Q flush.

 

“Maybe after a walk. All my muscles feel cramped up. This vacation has definitely messed with my sparring abilities. Why don’t you call Marek and ask about the cabin, and we can get supplies while we’re out.”

 

James sits up and digs out his mobile. “Okay, I’ll ask where we go to find hiking gear since I get the feeling we won’t be able to drive the car the whole way.”

 

Q pulls out his mobile and searches for local markets they can buy food to bring along while James carries on an animated conversation he can’t understand. He searches the city, but his brain is still feeling too fuzzy to feel like focusing on sites to visit so after finding a nearby outdoor market he gives up and decides they can just wander and see where they end up.

 

“Ready to go?” James asks as he closes his mobile.

 

“I found a local market so we can start there, then bring the things back before we go find hiking gear. How’s Marek?” Q leads them out of the room and down the stairs to the door leading outside.

 

“Much better than we are, that’s for sure. I get the feeling that was just a regular sort of night for him. He says the offer is still good on the cabin. Laughed when I asked about picking up a key. Apparently it’s in the middle of nowhere so it’s never locked. He also said to watch out for bears, and I can’t tell if he was joking or not.”

 

“Lovely. Well, at least we’re armed. Not sure a Walther could take out a bear though at any sort of range… I’d say our better bet is good hiking boots so we can climb a tree. I think that’s what you do for bears. Or is that wolves?”

 

“My training didn’t involve how to escape wildlife, sorry. Hopefully we don’t run into anything more menacing than a mountain goat.”

 

“If I get eaten by a bear James, I swear to all the gods I will come back and haunt you,” Q warns with a laugh as they head in the direction of the market.

 

 The market is filled with booths selling fresh fruit and vegetables, breads, and a wide array of beautifully made Oscypki cheese that is only available in the south of Poland, or so the lady tells James. They buy a few cheeses and some bread, but aren’t sure they could keep the vegetables fresh on the way so they avoid those. At a tiny grocery store they get an assortment of canned foods and some beef jerky, then head back to their hotel to drop it off before driving to the store for hiking gear Marek recommended.

 

By the time they get back with new boots, backpacks, water bottles with portable water purifiers, lanterns, and other assorted gear that made Q increasingly nervous, they are ready to eat. They leave everything in a pile and set out again, with Q declaring that this time he gets to pick where they are going since clearly disasters ensue when James is allowed to choose.  

 

When they finally return to their room after a good meal and an impromptu outdoor concert in a park by a street performer it is already nearly dark. James shuts the door then presses Q up against it and kisses him thoroughly. “How are you feeling about late evening sex?” he purrs into Q’s ear as he slides his hands around to grip Q’s arse and pull him forwards gently.  

 

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Q concedes with a smile as he slips out from in front of James and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. He bounces up and down lightly, intending to tease James, but instead he just breaks out into laughter at the loud squeaking noise. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.” He backs up into the middle of the bed and kneels then bounces up and down harder and the bed makes loud squeaky sounds as the ancient springs in the bed complain about the weight. “How drunk were we not to notice this last night?”  

 

“Pretty drunk, apparently.” James walks over to the bed and climbs on next to Q then bounces on it experimentally. The bed squeaks even louder. James can’t help but laugh at the combination of amusement and horror on Q’s face as he is obviously considering the likelihood of thin walls and calculating the amount of noise having sex on the bed will make.

 

“Don’t even suggest it, James! I am not having loud squeaky bed sex that the entire clientele of the hotel will hear, as well as, in all likelihood, the neighbors across the street!”

 

“Sex against the wall? Floor sex?”

 

Q looks down at the hard wooden floor and raises a brow at James challengingly then crosses his arms. “We already have enough bruises I think.”

 

“Okay, then how about this. We get naked and enjoy very long, slow, quiet, mutual blow jobs.”

 

Q smiles at James’ determination. “You just don’t want there to be any hotel rooms we haven’t had sex in, do you?”

 

“We have a perfect record going!” James admits with a ‘you caught me’ sort of grin.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to mess with our perfect record.” Q slides off the bed and begins stripping slowly, thinking fondly for the thousandth time that despite their age difference he was the one dating a bloody teenager. Q turns his back to James. “Sit down, love.” He takes two steps away, just outside the reach of James’ arms. He casts a glance over his shoulder before bending over to take off his shoes, kicking them to the side of the room. He peels off his socks next throwing them after his shoes.

 

James starts to realise what Q is doing, and sits down to enjoy the show properly.

properly.

 

Q bows forward to kiss James rather thoroughly. They indulge for a minute, but Q breaks off the kiss and takes a step back. Maintaining eye contact, Q slips his index finger under his shirt, showing off his pale skin before he starts turning again, lifting the fabric as his he angles his back towards James.

 

“Bloody tease,” James mutters.

 

Q pulls his shirt off and throws it into the same corner. He turns to James, undoes the button of his jeans. “I’ll show you teasing,” he mock-threatens, swatting James’ hand away from the fly. “For a good long time.” He leans in and lightly brushes James’ lips before stepping away again. He undoes his fly and wiggles the jeans over his hips with exaggeratedly slow movements. He feels himself getting aroused, and realises that James is visibly getting hard too. He steps out of his jeans and moves in to straddle James. He slips his hands under James’ shirt, slides it up and over his chest to get it off him.

 

“Love?” James tries as his shirt lands in the corner where Q’s clothes went earlier. Q pushes James onto his back.

 

“Yes?” Q kisses James’ neck.

 

“You are going to take forever on me, aren’t you?”

 

“And you are so going to love it.” Q pushes his knees further apart, but that makes the bed squeak. He muffles a curse and gets off the bed.

 

“What are you doing?” James asks. Q kneels next to him, opens James’ trousers and pushes them down. He motions for James to sit down on the edge of the bed and sits down on the floor. Instead of answering he peels off James’ pants, and while he tosses them to the side he moves his other hand up James’ thigh and takes his cock into his mouth. James moans a little. Q sucks a little harder, eliciting a grunt. He slides off and traces the outline of James’ balls with his tongue, and then his index finger.

 

“I’m calibrating,” Q says in his best handler voice. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, still a little slick with spit, and moves his hand up, twists and slides it back down.

 

“Calibrate faster,” James groans. Q strokes his thumb over his hole, and James bites his own hand to keep quiet. Q strokes and licks and bites and in response James bucks and groans makes choked off noises of pleasure in a low voice. When Q takes James back into his mouth, he is more aroused than he remembers being in a long time. Q shifts his tongue and James comes with a cry. “Give me a minute, love,” James says.  “And good job, I’m pretty sure the bed didn’t squeak.”

 

“I can’t say the same for you.”

 

“I did not squeak!” James exclaims in mock outrage. “Come here, you, and I’ll make you squirm. We’ll see if you can manage to be any quieter.”

  
  
  


    “Are you _sure_ we’re not lost?” Q asks for the third time in an hour as they wind through the Tatra mountains on what may or not be a road, because as far as he’s concerned if google maps can’t find it then it might not actually exist.

 

    “Welcome to my world, Artemis. Unlike you, I’ve learned to rely on what actual living people tell me, not just what a machine says,” James teases. “Trust me. If Marek says this is the way then it’s the way. I’m sure he’s more of an expert on his territory than google is. Besides, when I first became an agent there was no such thing as google maps and somehow I still managed to find my way out of all the third world countries MI6 dropped me into.”

 

    “Yes well, when you first became an agent dinosaurs still roamed the earth,” Q gripes, tapping futilely at the screen of his mobile.

 

    “Be nice. When your technology fails out here you might just come to appreciate my Jurassic survival skills you know.”

 

    “I have a satellite uplink James, my tech isn’t going to fail even in the middle of the nowhere you are talking us to.”

 

    “Unless you’ve somehow created a solar powered backup source I’m not sure that’s entirely true,” James hedges, suddenly realizing he failed to mention the cabin’s lack of electricity.

 

“What are you saying?”  He takes in James’ nervous expression and irritation spikes through him. The idea of camping was already one he was reluctant to agree to, since the thought of being surrounded by that much nature with all its unpredictability and its bugs and dirt and general determination to take back over the world if allowed wasn’t exactly appealing to him. “Are you seriously dragging me somewhere with no electricity?!”

 

“Well pardon me if I thought I would be enough to keep you entertained!” James snaps back, Q’s irritation triggering his own. He had just wanted to show Q how much fun camping, being away from all the chaos of civilization in general, could be, and he can’t see why Q is being so reluctant about the idea. “I figured we could just go on hikes, talk, play chess, and have sex in front of the fireplace. But apparently I should just turn the car around and take us to yet another fancy hotel because you can’t bloody well go a week without checking your email!”

 

Q gapes at James in surprise for a few moments. Part of him wants to snap back, but a larger part of him feels bad that he hasn’t been more supportive of James’ desire to show him something he so clearly enjoys. “No, don’t turn around. I’m not sure you could manage it right now without pitching us off the side of the mountain anyways. I can survive without checking my email. Look, I’ll even turn this off now.” He powers down his mobile and pockets it. “Hiking around Skye wasn’t so bad since we were always fairly close to humanity. I’m just illogically nervous about nature. No, actually, I’m very logically nervous. There are bears in these mountains, and wolves. Wolves, James! And probably snakes, and...and...marmots and things.”

 

“Well yes, I have heard that Polish marmots are particularly bloodthirsty rodents,” James replies, trying and mostly failing not to laugh.

 

“I hate you.” Q grins and smacks James on the thigh. “Okay, I promise I’ll try to enjoy camping.”

 

“Good, because it looks like we’re here. Or, at the end of the road at least.” James parks the car in a little gravel-covered area where the road stops at the edge of a forest. “I think it’s about a five kilometer hike up to the cabin.”

 

“Tell me there’s at least running water then, because after carrying this backpack the whole way I’m really going to want a shower when we get there,” Q comments as he opens the boot and gets out his backpack.

 

“Ah, I think so...though I can’t guarantee a water heater.”

 

“Hmm, well that earns me a few extra points then.”

 

“Points?” James shoulders his own pack and looks at Q curiously.

 

“Oh yes. This entire experience is earning me points. I plan to cash them in for favors later,” Q grins.

 

“I see. And how do I earn points?”

 

“I think you already have plenty from all of those museum visits.”

 

“Wait, there’s been a point system this entire time and I’m just learning about it now?”

 

“Haven’t you known me long enough to figure out that I have a mental spreadsheet for everything?” Q asks playfully as he heads for the path between the trees.

 

“Of course you do. So, who’s winning?”

 

“Well you were up until that whole Polish vodka incident.”

 

“How was that my fault?!”

 

“You chose the bar! And you were the one who promised me it was different from Russian vodka.”

 

“It is! Just not so much in the after effects department,” James admits. “So, care to explain to me how this whole points system works?”

 

Two hours later they are still arguing good-naturedly about the points and trying to come to an agreement of how many each of them have.

 

“I don’t know James, I still feel like my getting you into the tunnels under the Louvre was worth at least six points more than your admittedly impressive date in Paris,” Q argues.

 

“Fine. So wait, that puts you at 237 and me at 216? And it’s ten points to get out of doing dishes and 25 for you erasing yet another of my speeding tickets? And whoever talks to M to explain our latest incident earns 50 points?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Your mind is a confusing place, love.” He stops as they leave the cover of the woods and the cabin comes into sight. It’s a tiny building in the middle of a giant open field that is covered in boulders and shrubbery.  

 

“Okay, this is seriously beautiful. I guess I can understand the appeal,” Q concedes as he takes in the view. The mountains rise up behind the cabin, snow-capped and majestic. The view from the open field looks down the mountainside to a gorgeously blue lake in a basin in the center of other surrounding mountains. Everything is green and the air smells cleaner than anything he’s experienced before.

 

“I honestly had no idea Poland looked like this. I’m glad you scheduled it into our trip.  Okay, lets check out the cabin.”

 

“Ah, what’s the word below ‘rustic,’?” Q asks as he looks dubiously around the little one-room cabin. It looks like no one has stayed here in months, and one of the unscreened windows blew open so everything is covered in a fine layer of dirt, including the full-sized bed.  There are also bird droppings on the floor beneath a bird’s nest up in one of the rafters. There is a fireplace, but Q shudders to think what animals could be lurking in the disused flue. There is also a distinct lack of a shower or toilet.

 

“Charming,” James declares cheerfully, dropping his bag down onto the floor.  

 

“See, and I can’t even pull up the dictionary app on my mobile.” Q sets his bag down and begins digging in it. “I’m hungry. You?” Then he looks around again. “Ah, where are we supposed to cook?”

 

James gestures to the fireplace and the pot dangling over a chain that is hanging inside of it.

 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

 

“Oh come on, it’ll be an adventure. Don’t worry, I know all about fireplaces. I’ll get it cleaned out and ready while you go find the wood. There’s probably a box out back. We can go gather more later to replace it. Oh, and look for the shower too, it’s probably out there somewhere!” he calls in amusement as Q walks out the door.  

 

Q does find a pile of wood behind the cabin, as well as a rusty shower head coming out from the side of the building near where he assumes the kitchen sink is located. He grits his teeth and reminds himself he is going to enjoy this experience. He gets back inside just in time to see a cloud of ashes envelop James, who begins coughing and waving his hands around in a pointless effort to diffuse the mess.

 

“So that about does it for sex on the bearskin rug,” Q laughs, pointing at the ash-covered rug at James’ feet. “What was that about knowing all about fireplaces?”  

 

“Well it’s clean now, isn’t it?” James gripes, stomping over to the sink to wet a nearby rag and wipe some of the ashes off of his face. He can actually feel his good mood fading.    

 

“You did a wonderful job love,” Q teases, ducking as James throws the dirty rag at him.  “So, cheese sandwiches while we wait for the dust to settle?”

 

“Probably a good idea.  Oh, we have tinned sausages don’t we?”

 

“All yours, I can’t believe you like those things.”

 

“Well we can’t all have your refined palate, can we?” James snarks as he strips his shirt off and goes outside to shake it off.

 

Q shakes his head and digs through the packs, pulling out the food and setting it on the table after brushing the dust off. He walks over to the small kitchen area and begins opening the few drawers. “I don’t suppose one of your special skills is opening cans without a can opener is it?” he calls.

 

James comes back in, still dusty but at least ash isn’t falling from his clothing with every step. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”  He gets a hunting knife out of his bag and spends the next few minutes swearing at the can as he discovers that multiple stabbings is a really slow and irritating way to open one.

 

Q watches out of the corner of his eye, struggling to keep a straight face as he makes sandwiches. “Need any help?” he asks innocently.

 

“No,” James growls, stabbing the can viciously only to have his knife slip and cut his knuckle.  He hisses and swears again.

 

“Let me see,” Q says, holding out his hand.

 

“I think considering my history I can handle a little cut,” James snaps, ignoring Q and stabbing the can again. His current level of frustration doesn’t exactly put him in the mood to be coddled.

 

“You’re so goddamned stubborn, you know that?”

 

“Well if I didn’t before I do now, so thanks for the revelation.” James stabs the top in frustration, causing some of the liquid to spill out and the resulting slippery side makes him lose his grip so the can tips over and makes a mess of the table.

 

“You know what, if you’re going to be like this I’d rather hang out with the wolves.” Q grabs his sandwich and stomps out the door, heading for a boulder in the distance. Unfortunately, he can’t storm off too far because he doesn’t want to get lost. Well, he doesn’t want to go far anyways. He just needs to be out of James’ space for a while, because they’re both tired and hungry and crabby and that makes for a dangerous combination.

 

By the time James gets the can open he’s too irritated to even want the sausages, which makes him even more irritated. He throws the can into the sink and digs out his water bottle, suddenly regretting their decision not to bring any alcohol.  He grabs the sandwich and throws himself down into the one stuffed chair in the room to eat it because he can’t bring himself to go chasing after Q yet. Even if James does feel bad about snapping at him. He sighs. Maybe camping this late in their trip wasn’t such a good idea after all, since they’re both starting to get tired of traveling.

 

Half an hour later Q hears James approaching, but he doesn’t turn around. He just keeps looking down at the lake and waits to see what sort of mood James is in. When James touches his back he tenses, equally prepared for James to be apologetic or combative. He relaxes when James’ arms slide down to wrap around his waist as James kisses the nape of his neck before resting his chin on Q’s shoulder.

 

“Sorry I acted like an arse,” James mumbles into Q’s neck.

 

“It’s ok, I was rather pissy myself.  I’ll try to be more optimistic about this camping thing.”

 

“We’ll give it the rest of today and tomorrow, and if you aren’t having a good time we’ll go. Okay?”

 

“I’ll be fine, James. I swear I don’t need room service and the internet to survive. I just really like them.”  

 

“Perfectly understandable. So, it seems that the canned food option is out. I found a few fishing poles. Want to help me find the river or lake that must be close? That lake has to be almost as far away as the car and I doubt they trek all that way to fish. We can find out if fish like sausages.”

 

    Q smiles. “I’m trying really hard not to make any jokes here.”

 

    “Admirable restraint.” James rolls his eyes and pulls Q back off of the boulder so he can  spend a few moments kissing him before they go in search of the fishing poles.

 

    Q powers his mobile back on so he can find the nearest source of water since he doesn’t feel like wandering the wilderness for hours in the wrong direction. He ignores James’ comments regarding cheating.

 

    A few hours later the sun is beginning to set and James is forced to admit that fish do not in fact like sausages. At least that’s the reason he’s going with to explain why he hasn’t caught anything. Q gave up trying after half an hour of getting his line caught in every possible tree, cluster of rocks, and log in the river and turned to trying to teach himself to skip rocks for amusement.

 

James reels his line back in and stalks back over to where Q is lounging on a patch of moss a few meters from shore. “Okay, I give up. I can catch an assassin, but I can’t catch a bloody fish. How is that possible?”

 

“We all have our gifts, love,” Q smirks up at James. “I can’t even cast a line so clearly I’m in no place to judge. We’ll survive on cheese sandwiches just fine.”   

 

By the time they get back it is definitely getting dark out and Q breathes a sigh of relief when they get inside. “Bears can’t get in here can they?” he asks, only half jokingly.

 

“I doubt they’d even try. You’re a bit scrawny for their tastes,” James teases back.  

 

“Hey!” Q throws a shirt from the top of his pack at James. “How about you go practice your pyro skills on that fireplace before it gets truly dark and you can’t see well enough to light one. We can play chess or something.”

 

“Or something,” James drawls in a suggestive voice.

 

“Oh no, I am not having sex on that ash-covered, probably bug-infested bear rug so you can just get that idea out of your head right now. And I will be sleeping with my body fully covered in pajamas because god knows when the last time those sheets were changed, and I wouldn’t use the bedding at all except it’s going to get cold at night. And no, we cannot use the one sleeping bag we packed just in case, because then it will be all messy and I won’t want to use it either if it turns out there are bugs or animals or whatever in the bed.”

 

“Fine,” James huffs, going over to the fireplace and determining that he’s going to have to get creative if he wants any sort of sex on this trip. Suddenly camping loses even more of its usual appeal.

 

After only one game of chess Q is yawning. “Okay, I’m calling a code on this day. I’m sure the sun will have us up at 6am anyways considering the lack of curtains on these windows.” He gets up and heads for the door. “If the lack of an indoor loo gets me mauled by wolves I’m never camping with you again,” he warns.

 

James rolls his eyes and grabs a torch out of his bag to go check between the covers of the bed- just in case- and decides not to mention the two spiders he sends scurrying for the cover of darkness. Or the sodding mouse. Suddenly Q’s idea of sleeping fully clothed doesn’t sound quite so ridiculous.  

 

    A combination of the sun and the local bird population wakes them up closer to 5am.  Q groans and buries his face in the pillow. “Oh, this is ridiculous. I give up,”Q sighs after trying to get back to sleep for about fifteen minutes. “And this has to be one of the hardest beds I’ve ever slept in.”

 

    “Good morning to you too sunshine,” James mumbles as he turns on his side and watches Q take a few steps, clearly remember the no indoor loo situation, then huff and head outside. He’s slept on far worse, but he supposes Q isn’t a field agent and is used to more consistent comfort than he is. He gets up as well and goes to pour some water into the pot and hang it over the still-warm coals. He coaxes a fire to life and is considering where the mugs might be when Q begins swearing colorfully from outside. He runs out only to begin laughing when he sees Q, naked and dripping wet and staring at the outdoor shower reproachfully.   

 

    “I knew it would be cold but I’m pretty sure it’s just a half a degree from turning into ice!” He reaches out and splashes himself for a few seconds then gives up. “If you don’t want to deal with hypothermia you should bring me a fucking towel,” he snaps at James, the bastard, who is still grinning at him in amusement.

 

    James tries to control his smirk as he goes to grab a towel out of his pack, because Q is kind of adorable when he’s irritated and James isn’t. In an attempt to demonstrate he is not insensitive to Q’s predicament, he vigorously towels Q dry, warming him up in the process.

 

Q’s mood brightens a bit in spite of himself.

 

    “I found the bread. I’m not sure if we have anything to eat with it aside from more cheese, but on the bright side there will be tea in a few minutes,” James announces.

 

    Q starts looking for clean clothes while James brews tea and tracks down the edible non-canned foods in the cabin. By the time he gets to the table James has a small spread of bread, cheese, and dried fruit, accented by a vaguely rose-shaped napkin.  As much as Q is in the mood to stay irritated, he’s having a difficult time when James is trying so hard to cheer him up. James pulls a chair back for him and gives him a hopeful look.  “Okay fine, I’m sorry I’m in such a shit mood.”

 

James leans down and kisses Q lightly. “In your defense, this hasn’t been exactly a perfect experience. But as long as we’re here we may as well try to make the best of it. I promise you can laugh at me as I attempt a freezing shower after we eat.”  

 

“Seems fair,” Q agrees as he takes a sip of tea and sighs gratefully.  “Well, at least there’s tea. Things can only be so bad if tea is involved. So, what are we going to do today?”

 

“I thought maybe we could pack some lunch and make our way down to the lake.  I bet it’ll be warm enough to go skinny dipping by the time we get there.” James winks suggestively.

 

Q rolls his eyes. “Do you ever have anything on your mind that doesn’t involve sex?”

 

“Sometimes I’m thinking about blowing things up,” James points out with an easy grin.

 

“Your mental acuity is truly astounding,” Q huffs.  “How you survived this long without me I’ll never know.”

 

“Me neither,” James replies, reaching out to run a finger gently down Q’s cheek in a gesture of familiar affection instead of reacting with the sarcasm Q was probably expecting. As expected, Q leans into the touch and even more of his irritation seems to drain away.  James smiles, glad he’s learned a thing or two about how to react appropriately to Q’s moods. “So, up for a hike after breakfast?”

 

“Might as well. It’ll give me a chance to play with the compass I bought,” Q replies, brightening at the thought.

 

“Now that is a piece of tech I can actually offer you tips on. This trip is just full of new and exciting experiences!” James quips, ducking the piece of crust that comes flying at his head a second later.

 

They get their supplies of food, water, and towels just in case into one backpack which James offers take the first turn carrying. Once they get out of the open field and into the trees they can’t see the lake anymore, so for the first half hour or so Q is amused by using the compass to keep them heading west so they don’t get off track when they need to hike at an angle to avoid boulders or small cliffs. However, after tripping over a fallen tree branch and twisting his ankle just enough that it hurts to walk- but he’s too stubborn to turn back around- his good mood fades and he is back to sniping at James and being irritated at his own irritated mood.  

 

James tries his best to ignore Q’s increasingly dark mood, but he isn’t in the best mood himself after losing the fight over going back after Q injured himself. He’s still gritting his teeth to hold back a biting reply to being told that if James can ignore his injuries and keep on like the masochist he is while on missions Q can damn well decide to do the same now. He’s about to begin the fight anew after Q hisses in pain after stumbling again when he nearly barrels into Q who stops with no warning. “What the hell-”

 

“James…”

 

The frightened tone puts James instantly on alert, and he looks over Q’s shoulder at the large brown bear directly in their path. It is staring at them warily, shifting its weight from paw to paw and sniffing at the air as if trying to identify them as harmless or a threat. Or maybe as potential food. “Don’t move,” he whispers, reaching out to wrap his arm around Q’s waist in case he was thinking of running.

 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Q grits out, hardly even daring to move his lips. He clamps down on his body’s instinctive urge to run away from the thing with teeth and claws and remains still, leaning back fractionally into James’ grounding touch. The bear takes a few steps closer, still looking more curious than threatening. Q just hopes it doesn’t have cubs nearby. After what feels like an eternity but is probably closer to a few minutes, the bear makes a grunting sound then turns and ambles away.

 

“See? Adventure.” James tries to keep his tone light and carefree but a bit of tension creeps in regardless. Facing down assassins is one thing, a large unpredictable wild animal is something completely different.

 

“Adventure? Adventures are fun. That was terrifying. How do we even know where it went? I think we’d better stay here until we’re sure it’s gone. And not here here, up a tree or a ways up that cliff.” He waves towards the rocky cliffside that they have been walking next to for the last kilometer or so, since they seem to be following some sort of old gully.

 

“I don’t think that’s necessary, it’s probably not coming back this way.”

 

“Probably? Probably isn’t good enough. If you want to keep going and get eaten feel free, but I’m not going anywhere for a good hour. And then I’m going back to the cabin and the relative safety of its walls, where I plan on staying until you decide you’re finished with this whole miserable experience!” He limps off in the direction of the cliff, not even bothering to see if James is following. Now that he’s done being scared, he’s back to being irritated because this whole camping thing has been one nightmare after another. If he’s being totally honest he’s not even irritated at James, he’s just irritated in general. But there’s no one else to take his frustrations out on at the moment.

 

“It’s not as if I magically called the bear over out of spite, Artemis!” James digs his nails into his palms and stomps after Q, who is acting like a spoiled child in his opinion. “If you’re having such a miserable fucking time then let’s just go now. God forbid you have to spend another night without all the comforts of a hotel. You know, it’s a damn good thing you’re happy hiding in Q branch because if you think this is roughing it you wouldn’t last a week as a field agent!” The moment the words leave his mouth James regrets them, but Q can just make him so mad sometimes.

 

“Oh really?” Q rounds on James, eyes flashing dangerously because how dare James accuse him of being weak. “Because it’s not like I let myself go through hell for you or anything. I mean, I definitely couldn’t handle being kidnapped and whipped and beaten and poisoned. I just sat in my comfy, safe office and gave up on you, right? Oh wait, no, that’s not exactly how I remember things going down!”

 

James flinches and suddenly feels far more guilty than pissed. “I didn’t mean- I’m not- dammit, Artemis, I know you’re not- look, I’m sorry. I just wanted to go camping with you because I like it and I wanted you to like it too. And I didn’t know it would be like this, and okay I’m not a huge fan of hard beds and ice cold showers either. But I wish you would stop acting like this is all my fault! I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m trying to make the best of it because even when we’re stuck in the middle of godforsaken nowhere and pissed at each other I still fucking love you. And I know you’re strong as hell, I shouldn’t have said that about making it as an agent.”

 

Q pauses in his angry rush towards the cliff and puts a hand against a tree to steady himself. He’s coming down from the adrenaline spike of being scared and pissed and his ankle hurts and he wants to stay mad at James but damn it if the man isn’t making it impossible. “Gods but you can be an arse when you want to be. You’re really fucking lucky I love you too,” he sighs.

 

“In all fairness you can be a right arse yourself, you know,” James allows cautiously, letting some gentle teasing slip into his voice.

 

“Yes well, I don’t think you’d have put up with me for this long if I wasn’t. You’d get bored.”

 

“True. Now will you please let me look at your ankle? It’s no use aggravating it further if we want to get home.”

 

Q bites back a sigh and decides he will be reasonable about this. He sits down and unties his boot, peels off his sock and allows James to check it.

 

James takes Q’s ankle gently into his hands and prods at it carefully as he tests its mobility. The skin feels warmer than it should and there is minor swelling, but thankfully it’s not too bad. “It just looks like you pulled a muscle. It’ll be sore for a few days but you’ll be fine. You really shouldn’t put too much weight on it though, so I’ll keep carrying the pack. I wish we had ice to put on it, but you’ll have to make due with paracetamol.” He slides the pack off of his back and digs in it until he comes up with a few pills and a water bottle, which he hands to Q. “I can bind it for you when we get back, left the medical tape at the cabin I’m afraid.”

 

“Thanks. Sorry I ruined the hike by getting hurt and being afraid of bears.” He swallows the pills then gingerly puts his sock and boot back on, wincing a bit at the pain.

 

“Don’t worry about it. The bear is probably a safe distance away by now, it’s most likely headed to the lake for fish or something. So, heading back really is the best plan regardless. Want to rest here for a bit before we head out?”

 

“No, I think I’d rather just get going. We can have a picnic lunch when we get back, play some more chess or something. I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of think we’re running out of new things to talk about after this much time together. And it’s been fun, but I think I’m about ready to just head back to London. Spend some just being home together before we have to return to work.”

 

“Oh good, it’s not just me then,” James comments as he stands and offers Q a hand. “I’ve been feeling a bit over travelling since Vienna but I knew you really wanted to come see these mountains and forests. It’s really amazing, despite the disaster this little camping experiment has turned out to be.”

 

“I’m sure it will be funny later when we’re explaining it to Molly or Eve,” Q allows with a genuine smile. Now that they have a plan to head home soon he’s feeling in a much better mood.

 

“I think we should stick it out for one more night though since this will be enough walking on that ankle for one day. Think you can survive? If not we can always just leave all the gear here and I can give you a piggyback ride down to the car,” James teases, knowing Q would never allow that as much as he enjoys James picking him up and carrying him to bed.

 

“I think that would just result in you tripping and landing us both with injuries, so no thank you. I’ll make it another night. Maybe this time we can drag the blankets into the field and go stargazing before we sleep. I bet the stars look amazing from here since we’re ages from light pollution.” Q checks his compass and begins leading them back in the direction of the cabin.

 

“Sounds perfect. You know, we haven’t had sex under the stars yet…” James trials off hopefully, then grins and ducks as Q snaps a branch back at his head.

 

“You’re a hopeless nymphomaniac! And I’ll think about it. Especially if you do all the work. I am injured here,” Q points out in an overtly pouty voice.

 

“You’re such a manipulative little shit,” James replies fondly, catching up to Q so he can pull him in for what he expects to be a quick kiss but ends up being a long, wonderfully lazy quarter hour of kissing just for the sake of kissing. James leans against a tree, ignoring the awkwardness of the backpack and instead focusing on the feeling of Q’s fingers playing idly with his hair and the familiar warmth of being pressed closely together. Sometimes he’s still surprised at how no matter how long he’s been with Q, he only wants him more. How this simple brush of lips is in its own way just as satisfying as a night of wonderfully exhausting sex.

 

Q finally pulls away, humming in satisfaction and definitely in a much better mood. It occurs to him that with his irritated state he’s barely even kissed James for the last 24 hours. He’s not sure if he should be pleased or concerned by the fact that his state of happiness at least partially depends on physical contact with James, but it seems to be a fact of his life now so he supposes he may as treat it as a good thing. After all, James is a constant from this point on. He smiles at the thought and gives one final kiss before stepping away so they can continue their walk.

 

“What was that look?” James asks as he follows Q up the boulder-strewn path.

 

“I was just thinking about the fact that you’re stuck with me forever now, that’s all.”

 

“I’ll suffer through somehow,” James replies, his stomach doing a rare little flip at the sentimental comment. He wonders, again, if Q is waiting for a more public acknowledgment of their permanence and if he really should be looking into rings. Something to ask Eve, or maybe Molly, for advice on when they get home. He realises the notion appeals to him.

 

It’s midday before they make it back to the cabin and James insists on Q resting on the porch while he brings out a picnic lunch. Of still more cheese sandwiches. He congratulates himself on remembering the chocolate bar he had hidden in the bottom of his bag though, and he brings out some beef jerky as well. Fortunately Q is still in a good mood so he seems more amused than bothered at the repetition of the meal. They eat in companionable silence, and despite the situation James can’t help but appreciate the clean smell of the air and the absence of noisy automobiles. Since it’s warm they go barefoot and strip off their shirts then lie back on the blanket, and at some point James drifts to sleep with Q draped over his bare chest.

 

Q wakes slowly, feeling warm and cozy and not particularly motivated to move. He hums and kisses James’ skin lazily, earning him a sleepy grumble that he has come to interpret as loosely, ‘five more minutes, I don’t want to go to school!’ He grins and slides his hands slowly into position then wraps his legs firmly over James’ and begins tickling him viciously in his most sensitive spots just below his rib cage.

 

James is unprepared for the onslaught and can’t hold in a very rare, never-to-be-admitted laugh that could absolutely not be qualified as a giggle. For a few seconds all he can do is react automatically to block Q’s dancing fingers, which Q takes unfair advantage of. Then he bends his outside leg and pushes hard, unbalancing Q and flipping him over so James is above him. But before he can retaliate Q lets out an unexpected hiss of pain and he backs off. “What is it?”

 

“Oh hell, I think I’m sunburnt,” Q complains, trying unsuccessfully to look over his own shoulder.

 

James sits up, pulling Q with him to check.  “I really should have known better than to let you fall asleep in the sun with that light skin of yours,” he sighs. “Can I just offer a blanket apology for this entire trip?”

 

“It’s not your fault I’m ten shades lighter than you are,” Q points out, even though he isn’t thrilled about the burn. “But now you are definitely doing all the work if you want sex under the stars,” he adds with a smirk.

 

    “C’mere, you.” James’ grin takes on a predatory edge. He circles around Q, testing the feeling of Q’s reddish skin. He licks a broad stroke and blows some cool air over it. “Wait here, I think you packed after-sun.”

 

A few minutes later, James returns with a bottle of after-sun. "Would you rather sit up or lie down?" he asks as he walks back outside, only to find Q already on his stomach. James sits down next to Q and squirts some of the lotion onto his hand. "Okay, here it comes," he announces, swiping a broad white stroke over Q's back. Q arches in response to the simultaneous sting and cooling in his skin. James tries to be gentle rubbing in the lotion, but he hears Q hiss more than once. "Well, that's it for now." James puts the bottle aside and lays down on his back, as Q raises up just enough to rest his head on his hand.

 

Q looks over at his boyfriend and muses whether he should keep his original plan of having James do all the work, since the earlier contact has reignited his desire to touch. Well, he supposes there are some things he can do while still lying comfortably on his stomach.  “I guess I should thank you for taking such good care of me,” he drawls suggestively as he scoots lower and begins unbuttoning James’ trousers. He knows he really should get out of the sun, but suddenly he wants nothing more than the pleasure of feeling James harden in his mouth. He wants the taste and smell of him, to enjoy the thick slide against his tongue, to indulge in the way James’ muscles move beneath his hands and the desperate grip of fingers in his hair. He doesn’t bother to hide his low sound of longing as he gets James gloriously naked in the fading afternoon sun.

 

James groans in appreciation and cards his fingers gently through Q’s hair and shivers in anticipation. He can tell Q is one of _those_ moods, where his mouth on James has more to do with his own pleasure than anything else. He should get Q out of the sun, he really really should, but he can’t bring himself to move because this is going to wreck him and right now that sounds too good to pass up. So he lies back and plays with Q’s hair and when Q’s warm mouth takes his still mostly soft cock completely inside he loses the ability to do anything more than feel.

 

What Q guesses is about ten minutes after he’d rubbed himself to completion against the blanket, trousers still on because James felt so damn good under his mouth and hands, he finally lets James finish as well. While James is still trembling and boneless he crawls up to lie on top of him, tangles his fingers as much as he can into James’ shorter hair and kisses him lazily and deeply until their mouths have been licked clean of James’ taste.  

 

James is feeling completely blissed out and loved and it’s one of those times he feels like his skin is the only thing keeping him from going to pieces with the force of it. “Gods but I fucking love you,” he finally manages to growl against Q’s lips.

 

“As you should,” Q smirks, still feeling half-drugged from being so caught up in James.

 

“Little shit,” James teases, biting Q’s shoulder lightly.

 

“Arse,” Q counters, nipping the skin below James’ ear hard enough to leave a mark.

 

“Okay, you need to stop that before I keep you here and get you hard enough again to fuck me because we really need to get you out of the sun.” He sits up and pulls Q up with him.

 

“Fine. I really should find new trousers as well before I get glued to these ones,” Q wrinkles his nose in distaste as the sticky feeling in his pants finally registers.

 

“I’m going to take it as a compliment that I don’t even have to do any work to make you mess up your pants like you’re a teenager,” James comments then dodges Q’s playful smack.  

 

“No, but you still owe me doing all the work later tonight,” Q reminds James in an imperious tone as he gets to his feet and heads towards the cabin.

 

“Looking forward to it!” James calls after him as he gathers up their discarded clothing and follows.

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing chess and then James teaches Q how to successfully cheat at poker so things can be more interesting the next time Eve convinces them to join a game. Despite the cold showers and yet another meal of cheese sandwiches they manage to avoid any more fights. Sunset finds them sitting on the porch wrapped in their sleeping bag against the cool evening and watching the stars slowly appear in the darkening sky.

 

“Which one are you going to wish on?” Q asks as he snuggles back against James’ chest and swats at one of the many irritating bugs that seem determined to sneak under the blanket with them.  

 

“You want me to wish on a star?”

 

“Oh come on, it’s some sort of camping tradition isn’t it? Along with toasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories.  But we didn’t pack any marshmallows, so we’ll just have to settle for what we’ve got. I pick...that one.” Q points at a large vaguely blue star at random, hoping it isn’t a satellite.

 

“Oh yes, I can see exactly the one you’re talking about,” James states with mock sincerity.

 

“Shut up, you. It doesn’t matter anyways, it’s my star. Get your own.”  

 

James looks up at the sky and picks out a tiny, barely visible star in the middle of a large cluster. “Okay, now what?”

 

“Now you make a wish. But you can’t tell me what it is or it won’t come true.”

 

“Do you have any idea how many horribly sappy movie-style lines are running through my mind right now?”

 

“Well keep them to yourself or you’ll spoil the moment,” Q gripes good-naturedly.

 

James pointedly purses his lips and allows his mind to go quiet to come up with his wish. Growing old together, he summarises from the images in his mind. “Does that mean you can’t tell me what you wished for?” Q shakes his head. “What if I guess?”

 

“Maybe,” Q allows. “But I doubt you’ll get it.” He decides it’s a good thing it’s getting dark and he’s facing away so James can’t see him blush. It’s ridiculous anyways. He knows James isn’t planning on leaving him, and they live together and they’re happy together. It’s not like he needs a ring or a legal document, but the hopelessly romantic side of him can’t help but want it someday anyways.

 

“Hmm...well you already have an amazing lover so it can’t be that. And you have your dream job and a few homes and the greatest car on the road. Ah, the ability to fly? A TARDIS? A mug that is constantly filled with perfectly brewed hot Earl Grey tea?”

 

“No, but that last would have been a good one,” Q laughs.

 

“Well, just tell when it comes true then.” James kisses Q’s temple and pulls him in closer. “While you’re waiting, how about I grant your wish of my doing all the work?” He slides a hand down Q’s stomach and rubs it teasingly below the band of his trousers.

 

“Yeah, that works for now,” Q agrees, spreading his legs for easier access and trying to ignore the rush of cold air from the blanket falling open. But when James slides a cool hand into his pants he can’t help sucking in a surprised breath.

 

James sighs. “You know, I don’t think sex on a blanket under the stars works as well in reality as it does in the movies. I don’t want you getting cold. Ouch!” He slaps at the back of his neck where something just bit him. “And these bloody bugs aren’t helping.”

 

Q can’t help but laugh at the put out tone to James’ voice and the general ridiculousness of the situation. “Yeah, and with that musty bear rug and the hard floor, along with the bug population inside, I don’t think sex in front of this particular fire is going to work out either. Let’s just say you owe me doing all the work next time, whenever that is.”

 

“Fine,” James huffs. “Well you can still tell me a ghost story if you want.”

 

“You know, I actually know a creepy story about this area. There is a legend that there is an army trapped in an enchanted sleep somewhere deep in these mountains. They’re hidden somewhere out there, maybe even nearby. It’s said that sometimes their king awakens and takes the shape of a wandering traveller and ventures out to ask people what’s happening in the world. Supposedly, when there is enough evil they will rise up to fight it, and that will mean the end of the world.”

 

“Huh. Well someone should tell them to get off their arses because I’ve been doing their job long enough and I’m retiring. Not that I want the world to end yet, but still. A little help would have been nice.”

 

“The world will be fine, James. You’ll still be training new agents to go save it. Besides, I’m hardly useless myself even from behind the walls of MI6.”

 

“True,” James says, nuzzling Q. “You’re far from useless.”

 

“And you’ll be useful too, just in a different way.”

 

“I’ve been trying to imagine Mallory’s response.”

 

“Somewhere between regret and relief?” Q stands and helps James up.

 

“You think he’ll be relieved?” James asks, slightly peeved.

 

“Well, when you’re not being Her Majesty’s best agent, you can be a handful.”

 

“I’m resisting so many bad puns right now,” James laughs. “Right, into bed with you. Wouldn’t want you to get too complimentary lest it go to my head.” He swats at Q’s arse on his way in. Q deliberately stays within reach.

 

The next morning finds them both in good spirits despite the birds and sunlight having woken them up ridiculously early again. Now that they’ve settled on heading home they find they are both surprisingly eager to get back. They arrange what they care to keep into one pack for James to carry and leave the rest of the supplies as a thank you for letting them use the cabin, even if it did turn out to be a disaster. They walk side by side when the trail is wide enough to allow it, and when it isn’t, James follows Q to allow him to set the pace.

 

“I think I can actually feel you staring at my arse,” Q tosses back over his shoulder as the trail narrows and he takes the lead.

 

“I can’t help it. I’m not used to seeing you in trousers that are this lightweight. You should wear these more often, I can see your arse much better than in the stuff you insist on wearing to the office.”

 

“I’m not sure Mallory would approve if I showed up in exercise wear,” Q grins. “Do they really make my arse look good?” he teases, swinging his hips exaggeratedly.

 

“That’s it. The next clearing we come to I’m getting you naked on the sleeping bag and chasing the sunlight over your skin with my tongue until you beg me to fuck you,” James promises, struck by a sudden rush of arousal at the idea.

 

Q falters in his next step at the desperate edge to James’ tone. “God, yes,” he agrees, and walks a bit faster. A few minutes later the trail passes through an area where the trees are more spread out and the sunlight filters through in hypnotic shifting pools of light and shadow. He’s about to turn and ask if it’s good enough, but he only gets halfway around before he hears the backpack hit the ground and James pulls him in for a lingering kiss, the slow intimate sort that still makes a lovely ticklish sort of arousal pool in his stomach after all this time.

 

When James finally ends the kiss he’s already half hard, but he isn’t in any sort of rush so he slides his hands up the back of Q’s shirt and kisses his way down Q’s jaw to his neck. He smiles as he feels Q’s fingers dig into his own hips and pull him closer. He bites and sucks the smooth skin then runs his stubble lightly over the sensitized areas until Q is squirming and rutting against him. It’s perfect and hot and James is struck again by how damn lucky he is that this gorgeous, brilliant man loves him enough, trusts him enough to be hours away from anything with him, a killer. And he isn’t running, he’s open and wanting and James swears to himself yet again that he is doing whatever it takes to keep Q happy, to make him want to stay.

 

“Please,” Q breathes, unable to do anything but come apart and they’re still completely dressed. If James isn’t the death of him, Q is never letting him go again.

 

“Yes,” James promises, not trusting his voice to say anything else. He slides down Q’s body slowly, mouthing at his skin beneath the cloth until he is crouching down so he can reach into the pack and pull out the sleeping bag awkwardly without having to stop touching Q. He stands and takes Q’s hand then leads him over to a patch of grass and moss that looks rock-free and spreads the covering over the ground. Then he turns back to Q and tangles his fingers into the addictive mess of curls and kisses Q’s eyelids, then his cheekbones, runs his lips gently over Q’s before licking his way slowly inside and reveling in the soft noises of desire.

 

They undress each other slowly, with soft kisses and nips and tongues dragged teasingly over each newly uncovered bit of skin. It isn’t rushed or desperate, and with the sound of wind in the trees and the play of light Q thinks it feels something akin to sacred, though he would never voice that aloud. When they are finally naked they just stand there running their hands over each other’s skin for a few minutes, appreciating. They communicate in kisses and smiles and knowing looks and it’s enough. More than enough.

 

James slides his hands down to Q’s thighs and quirks up an eyebrow, shifting his stance. Q responds by wrapping his arms around James’ neck and his legs around James’ back so he can be lifted in a familiar motion. James knows it’s going to leave him with marks but he doesn’t care. He carries Q the few steps over to a large pine and rests his back against it so he can use the leverage to pull Q in closer. His own cock is hard and pressed down against the cleft of Q’s arse while Q’s length is pressed against his stomach and it’s not enough to be more than a tease, but it feels incredible to kiss Q like this.

 

Q whines into James’ mouth and bucks his hips up, his cock dragging against the sheen of sweat between them. He loves this, loves to feel James’ strength and it only makes him feel more powerful for being the cause of such desperate desire. He lets his body take over, doesn’t try to hold back his low cries of need or the uncoordinated jerking of his hips. James rocks up and down against him and he can feel his muscles begin to tremble with the effort of holding him and when it becomes too much Q lets his legs drop and steps back, pulling James down on top of him onto the sleeping bag in a barely coordinated fall.

 

James tries not to let his full weight collapse onto Q, mindful of his sunburn even in his lust-hazed state.  He makes a move to shift over and lie on his back, but Q shakes his head and pulls James down so that their erections brush and James stops worrying about it. He hooks his ankles around Q’s and braces his weight on his forearms, hands playing with the hair at Q’s nape as they move fluidly against each other.  When Q arches James curls over him in tandem, a flawless rhythm they’ve perfected over time. He’s still amazed that rather than leading to boredom, the familiarity only makes everything more intense.

 

Q revels in the closeness, trails his fingers over James’ skin and the pleasure is a slow build. He knows they can finish from this alone, but he’s not ready yet so after a few minutes he urges James up and sits cross-legged so James can sit in his lap. He hums his contentment into a renewed kiss as James’ hands wrap around his neck and cock and he mirrors the motions. Without lube they settle for a firm grip and moving as far as the slide of skin allows, but it’s enough to keep up the steadily intensifying pleasure.

 

James finishes first, nearly silently, then moves down to bite Q’s shoulder as he moves his slick hand faster over Q’s length, twisting at the top. The rush of pleasure he feels as Q shudders and whispers his name is like a second orgasm and for a minute he can’t do anything more than cling to Q and breathe as their heartbeats slowly return to normal.

 

Q finally finds his voice, though it’s not entirely steady. “So apparently camping does have its benefits,” he murmurs into James’ neck.

 

“It really does,” James agrees, stroking Q’s back. “In case I haven’t told you lately, you’re amazing.”

 

“Amazing enough that you want to do the work of cleaning us up?” Q falls back onto the sleeping bag feeling sated and lazy.

 

“You know when you look this gorgeously fucked out I can’t deny you anything, you little shit.” James gets up and digs one of his shirts out of the backpack and wipes himself off, then cleans Q up as well before flopping down next to him so their sides are pressed together. He takes Q’s hand and lays their laced fingers on his stomach.

 

“Oh good, I don’t feel like moving just yet either.” Q watches the trees sway in the slight wind and enjoys the warm air on his skin. “It really is beautiful out here. I guess I get why you wanted to take me camping, even if it didn’t turn out how you hoped.”

 

“If nothing else, just think what fun you’re going to have telling Molly about it. She’s going to laugh her arse off when you tell her how we can blow things up and take down a drug ring but tin cans, bugs and a bloody bear proved too much to handle,” James laughs.

 

“Just tell that to Mallory as proof you’re ready to retire,” Q teases, bumping James with his hip. “Or, you know, I could just tell Eve and by the time you get back all the 00s will know and you’ll have to retire just to avoid all of the jokes.”

 

“Do I need to remind you that as of this moment I still have a license to kill?” James warns lightly, still feeling too relaxed to attempt retaliation in the form of a wrestling match.

 

“Don’t worry love, in my mind you’ll always be the most dangerous man in the world. That is until you manage to destroy one of my newest inventions in a fit of boredom by checking if it can withstand a grenade blast. Then that honor goes to me,” Q counters, letting just a hint of authority slip into his voice.

 

“That was only once!” James protests.

 

“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Q turns his head to kiss James’ shoulder. “Is it weird that I actually kind of miss the smell of too many cars and London being rainy half the time?”

 

“Not really. I miss it every time I’m away for too long. So, home?”

 

Q turns on his side and looks over at James, relaxed and gorgeous in the shifting shadows and wonders exactly how many times it’s possible to fall in love with the same person.  He rasps a finger across James’ stubble and nods. “Home.”

 

 

 

Epilogue

    James checks the small box in the pocket of his windbreaker. He knows he should stop checking because it’s a massive tell, but he thinks Q is too distracted to notice. Besides, Q is a quartermaster, not a double-oh.

 

    “Q, are you done yet?” James asks, his voice carefully controlled. Q has been inspecting every single nut and bolt on the small plane. Q had insisted on choosing which type of plane they would fly, the year it was built, and then spent at least five hours peering over various maintenance logs procured from god-knows-where. Eventually, he had set his sights on a small plane that James could pilot. They had arranged a date and hoped for good weather. As the day approached, Q grew a little restless with stress over facing his phobia. The evening before, when Q said they should probably leave at six in the morning, James had bitten back a sigh, set the alarm clock and prepared the coffee pot. Honestly, he is proud of Q for facing his fear of flying. James focuses back on the present, relishing the pride that Q trusts him enough to get him through it. But now, after ninety-four minutes of Q high on nerves and coffee, he would also very much like to get on with it. And he is nervous for his own reasons. He feels his pocket again.

 

    “Just a minute!” Q calls from underneath the cockpit.

 

    “I’ll be outside, just call me when you’re ready.” James shakes his head and leaves the hangar. In moments like this, he really misses smoking. It doesn’t look like you’re doing nothing when you’re standing outside holding a cigarette.

 

    “James? Are you ready?”

 

Q sounds choked. James bites back a joke of the “I was ready when you were born” variety and just replies, “I’m coming!” He hears a stifled giggle. Well, good to know Q’s sense of dirty humor is still intact. Back inside, he observes Q casually. He is paler than usual, and there is a bit of grease on his forehead.

   

    “All systems go?” James asks.

 

    “I’ve checked the weather forecast, the engine, and we’ve been over the flight plan.”

 

    “Three times,” James mutters under his breath.

 

    “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Ready to distract me?”

 

“For you, always. Though somehow I don’t think you’re going to let me turn on autopilot and use my preferred method,” he teases, trying to lighten Q’s mood. Predictably, Q rolls his eyes but his smile somewhat returns. “Do you need help getting on board?” James asks.

 

“No, I’ll manage.” Q takes a deep breath then climbs into the airplane. When he’s safely inside, James follows him and closes the door.

 

“Well then,” James says in his best Health and Safety voice. “We are looking at excellent flying conditions and we’ve been over the flight plan and done safety checks. I’m going to prepare for take-off.” James looks over at Q and stretches out his hand.

 

Q squeezes it and nods, then lets go so James can have both hands free. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

 

James goes over the take-off protocol and taxis the plane out of the hangar. He darts a glance over at Q. His lover is even paler than usual, but grim determination is obvious in the set of his jaw. “Do you want to know beforehand which part most people find frightening?”

 

Q vehemently shakes his head and clenches his fists. “No. Let’s do this. Reflection later.”

 

James nods and prepares for take-off. Twenty minutes later the plane is soaring over the lush green fields and he’s gratified to notice that Q’s fists start to unclench. He points at a few recognisable landmarks and keeps up a constant easy dialogue about what he’s doing with the controls since he knows understanding a thing always makes Q feel more comfortable with it.

 

“This isn’t intolerable,” Q admits after about fifteen minutes. “Can we go back now?” It’s not as frightening as usual since this time he gets to be in the cockpit and see out the front window and he does trust James, but still...he’d prefer to get used to flying in small increments.

 

James considers it for a moment. Originally he had intended to propose while flying, but that seems impractical. Q is not completely stressed out anymore, but absolutely in no mood to consider a serious question. Later, he decides, after they land. “Okay,” James concedes. “I’ll takes us back.” He relays their new route to Air Traffic Control. When he gets the go-ahead, he carefully turns the plane back towards the minute airfield.

 

“Thank you for putting up with my ridiculous phobia, James. I know you think it’s silly.” Q reaches a hand out and lays it on James’ thigh. “I feel safer than I ever have while riding in a gravity-defying hunk of metal.”

 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to come. I just love flying, and I wanted to experience it with you.” James rests a hand over Q’s then pulls it up to his lips for a kiss.  

 

“I want to experience everything with you.” Q smiles at James and decides that he may as well put his lover at ease. For all James thinks he’s a master of subtlety, Q knows exactly what he’s been planning. He wouldn’t be any sort of genius if he couldn’t suss out the reason behind James’ uncharacteristic nervous tells. Well, that and the fact that James has been hiding the rings in the back of his sock drawer for the past six months, Q thinks fondly.

 

“Right.” James mutters. “All right.”

 

Q shifts so he’s facing James as much as he can while still buckled in and watches as James’ hand makes an unconscious twitch towards his pocket. James is probably waiting for a good moment and assumes he’s too worried about flying to enjoy a ‘surprise’ right now. But if he’s learned anything over their years together it’s how to get James to do what he wants without letting him know that’s what’s going on. “Really though, I think we might be out of new experiences…” He studiously controls his face to remain neutral.

 

It takes all of James’ training to not to perk up immediately. “I think I can think of a thing or two,” he tries. “For one thing, how we’ll like no longer surviving on adrenaline on a regular basis. I mean, I’m only starting to adapt to no-longer-double-oh life. And the nice thing about engineering: there’s always a new frontier to break.” He hopes it is enough to shift the topic somewhat. “Can you see the airstrip already?” James asks.

 

“I’m only short-sighted when I’m not wearing my glasses,” Q huffs. “Yes, I can see it. Are you looking forward to landing properly, rather than crashing on water on some godforsaken island? And by the way, this right here is me surviving on adrenaline.”

 

“Okay, we’re about start the descent.”

 

“I’m sure I’ll feel it, but thanks for the warning.” He reaches out and digs his fingers into James’ thigh rather than his own palm. “I swear I trust you but this is the scariest part. Distract me. Surprise me?” He enjoys James’ minute startle reflex, through his very real physical fear.

 

“Should I keep your mind occupied with something mundane? Or do you want a math problem?”

 

“Either one. I’m experiencing butterflies of a particularly unpleasant type right now. Just don’t make me calculate how fast we’re dropping. I think I’m happier not knowing.”

 

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you? Remember going swimming in the evening? The beach to ourselves?”

 

“Oh, I see where you’re going with this,” Q grins, “and no. No plane sex even of the spoken variety. Do better.” He’s actually surprised James hasn’t broken and pulled out the rings yet, but he thinks he’s finally getting close.

 

“Fine. Your favourite Renaissance painters, barring the Ninja Turtles.”

 

“Seriously? That’s the best you can do?” Q smirks internally.

 

“Well, in my defense, I do have a plane to pilot. But if you need prodding, I think they are Caravaggio, Titian…”

 

“Definitely not Titian, too sweet for my taste.” Q’s grip on James’ leg tightens as the ground rushes up towards them.

 

“Hmm,” James hums, as he lowers the landing gear, “Does Rembrandt count?”

 

But before they can settle that, the plane hits the ground and James needs all his attention to get the plane to stop before the end of the landing strip. He manages relatively smoothly, he thinks. He looks over to Q, to see how he is feeling. “Are you okay, love?”

  
  


“Now that we’re back on the ground, yes. You may need to give me a moment for my legs to stop shaking before I can actually get out and walk though.”  

 

“Do you want to stay on board while I taxi the plane back, or do you need to get out?”

 

“No, I’ll stay,” Q replies. “I’m seeing this experience through with you, okay?” At this point Q isn’t entirely sure if all his nerves are due to flying or waiting for James to just ask the damn question already.  

 

James shrugs, and taxis the plane back in the hangar. When he turns off the engine, he takes a deep breath. “Are you really okay?” James asks.

 

“Yes, I’m still good. Are you?”

 

James bites his lip and takes out the small box. “Q, I’ve been thinking…”

 

Q smiles, and bites back something sarcastic. He is pretty sure of what is coming now.

 

“Artemis, we’ve been through hell and back together. I know I’ve sort of implied it before, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

 

After months of expecting this, Q is surprised by the sudden rush of emotion and the way his eyes tingle as if he’s about to cry. Which he definitely isn’t. Probably. “Yes, James, of course I’ll marry you! Even if you’re an arse for making me wait this long.” He pries off his seat belt so he can wrap his arms around James properly.

 

James kisses him thoroughly, communicating happiness, and a hint of relief. When he lets go of Q, he has to ask though. “What do you mean, making you wait?”

 

“I love the hell out of you James, but sometimes you’re really less sneaky than you think you are,” is all he says. He figures James really doesn’t need to know he’s been eyeing the rings for months. After all, he never took them out and now he’s eager to do so. He opens his palm. “Care to show me what you picked for us?” He asks.

 

James opens the box, excited to see what Q thinks of the rings since he worked so hard to make them himself based on Q’s original garotte ring design. He pulls Q’s ring out and hands it over for inspection, knowing Q won’t want to just slip it on his finger without a thorough examination.  

 

Q smiles as he finally holds the ring and runs a finger lightly over the intricate design of woven knots that encircle the band. He’s pleased to note that this ring is just as lethal as the one he originally gave James on Skye. Then he notices the small inscription and pulls the ring closer to his eyes so he can read it. He flicks his eyes over to James who is grinning at him in amusement. “You couldn't resist, could you?” He rolls his eyes and beckons for James to give him the other ring so he can read the inscription on that one as well. Then he burst out laughing. “You know, it’s actually ridiculously perfect.” His own band reads _Little Shit_ while James’ reads _Arse_.

 

“You like it?” James asks.

 

“Of course I do. I love it. And I love you. You arse.”

 

James lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “And I you, you little shit.” He grins and pulls Q over for another kiss.

 

 

The End

  
  
  



End file.
